


Hollow

by Heichous_Poncho



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Disturbing Themes, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Male Hange Zoë, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Suspense, Thriller, read at your own risk/discretion, trigger warnings listed in each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-10 22:59:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12309654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heichous_Poncho/pseuds/Heichous_Poncho
Summary: Something about him was different. It was not his stomach- surprising considering he emptied its contents less than an hour ago. Perhaps it was his mind; it was clear and focused.There was nothing to throw his concentration.He wanted to kill, so he was going to kill. It was that simple. And it would all start tonight.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Good Enough to Eat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8972311) by [wasterella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/wasterella). 



> What's this? I'm posting a new fic instead of updating my other two? Yeah...  
> Happy Halloween! This is my NaNoWriMo fic from last year that I finally finished and revised.
> 
> EDIT: Big shoutout to wasterella for inspiring me to revise and finish this fic!

Chapter 1

_A small, skinny boy sat still in a beige room. The adults placed him here while his foster mother screamed in grief. There was not much to the place. Toys were scattered on the floor from some other traumatized child who preceded him. The table he sat at held crayons and paper, inviting him to create a masterpiece._

_He declined._

_The door to the outside opened and allowed a woman dressed in khakis and a green polo in. She carried nothing with her and smiled as she approached him. “Hi there, sweetie. May I sit with you?” The boy looked the woman over carefully before nodding and pointed to the chair across from him. “Thank you so much, honey.” His lip curled at her words._

_“Don’t call me that. My name is Levi.” The woman simply blinked at his outburst._

_“Okay, sorry. So then Levi,” she paused and reached for his small fist. Her palms were as gentle as sandpaper. “I know you’ve just been through a lot and we don’t have to talk about-“_

_“You mean Farlan?” he interrupted while finally picking up a red crayon and twirling it between his fingers. “I know what happened and what you’re going to ask me: I feel fine.” The pink in the woman's cheeks faded along with her smile._

_“Are you sure, Levi? It is okay to say or do whatever you want to do here, no one will judge you. If you’re upset, you can tell me and I promise it will stay between us.” Levi paused his twirling and cast the woman a hard look._

_“Promise?”_

_“I do.”_

_“Okay. I don’t really understand why Mrs. Church, er, Mom, is so sad,” Levi admitted. “I’m not. I don’t even feel different. Everyone dies anyway.”_

 

 

Levi blinked awake from his slumber. His mind was a scrambled mess but that seemed to be the only indication of any dreams during the night. His bedroom was still dark and uncomfortably humid from the rainfall he watched an hour or two earlier. His vision blurred as he tried to read the clock on the pile of old, molding public speaking textbooks that served as his nightstand.

            3:21 A.M.

            “Fuck,” he muttered groggily. Even though his eyes were practically sealed together, the rest of his body didn’t seem to want to sleep anymore. Levi rolled out from under his meager blanket and ungracefully flopped onto the wooden floor. He was used to the pain shooting up his legs as he slowly rose to his feet and yawned while padding over to his closet to pull on a black hoodie. Whatever words that had been printed on it had long since faded. The pathetic iron-on image of a brain was cracked and peeling badly. He grabbed a shabby pair of grey sweatpants left on the edge of the bed and stumbled while attempting to slip them over his bare legs. They came to an end just shy of too short but he could bitch about it later; it wasn’t like anyone was going to see him.

            Levi walked out of his box of a bedroom immediately into his kitchenette. He grabbed his house keys and phone from the empty fruit bowl and shoved them in his pocket. The regular shambles were in order except for the rain bucket; water rippled closer to the rim with each drop from the perpetually leaking ceiling. With a sigh, Levi carefully collected the pot and steadily moved it towards the sink. He managed to tilt it just before the sink bowl, spilling the water inside without creating splash puddles on the counter. He placed the pail back in its designated spot and continued towards the front door. It let out a shriek as he shoved it open and he rolled his eyes; the neighbors would give him hell in the morning over it. Whatever, Brenda could eat his entire ass for all the shits he gave.

            Levi locked the door as he left and crammed his hands into his pocket. The scent of garbage, drugs, and shit wafted into his nose; only then did the granular texture of the air became more apparent. The night air, while significantly cooler, was the same filth during the day. Moving back to this shithole only made the pollution more noticeable, but it did not bother him as much anymore. He simply tucked his arms closer to his sides as he strolled down the dead-ended street. Forgotten styrofoam cups and plastic bags lined its sides while weeds fought to overtake the crumbling sidewalks.

            Disgusting. Levi hated living in Shiganshina. It was by far the poorest and filthiest borough in the great city of Trost but no one else seemed to give a shit about that little fact

            Levi’s lip curled as he passed by a rotting pomegranate on the curb. Dark red juice oozed from its thin, leathery flesh onto the concrete; it reminded him of the crime scene where an old man who was shot in the head a few weeks ago. Despite the fact that it seemed more like strolling through a trash pile, he actually enjoyed going on morning walks to clear his mind. No one was ever out at this time, not even the occupational mugger. Only the wind and his thoughts gave him company. Those and the rare rustle of leaves and bags. Levi approached his street’s end and turned into a back alley behind a house even shabbier than the one he grew up in. Its roof had caved in, yet somehow all the windows were still intact. The brown front door was vandalized with graffiti but looked sealed shut. That was good; the interior should be how he left it then. 

           The back alleys were more dangerous than the regular streets, a fact he learned himself. But somehow, Levi found them the most relaxing when void of the prostitutes and various types of dealers. Leave it to him to find solace in fucked up places.

            Him and another, apparently.  

            Levi squinted as he caught sight of a larger shape moving quickly towards the back of another building- a thriftshop. Curious, Levi followed the figure. He kept his distance large enough that he could only just see the outline of a person. The person darted into another alley behind the thrift store but Levi halted. He knew this alley would lead into the street and therefore blow his cover. Instead, he took residence hiding behind the last wall of the store. 

          Peering his head around the corner, his curiosity flared. The person was easier to make out now. They were tall, much taller than himself, thin, and seemed to be carrying something with them. It looked like a duffle bag. Were they homeless? With an air of indifference, the person dropped the stuffed bag onto the ground. Even from Levi’s corner, he could hear a tantalizing crunch resonate from the impact. Slowly, as if suddenly trying not to make any noise at all, the person knelt beside the bag and opened it, its contents hidden to Levi’s probing eyes. Levi scrounged his brow as the figure withdrew a roundish object by a thick handle.

The object was a pale white color and nearly glowed in the stark contrast of the dark surroundings. The person tossed it onto the ground beside them and returned their attention to the bag. They reached in and grabbed a slightly boxier object; it looked a tad too thin and uneven for a box if Levi was being honest with himself. The figure set this piece down and reached into the bag once more. Maybe he was a street artist, preparing his stencils to spray paint? But street artists usually flocked to East Rose to do their art; the closest thing to street art in Shiganshina were the remnants of cum and blood mixing on the back walls of the bars.

Levi squinted his eyes up at the sky; a cloud was passing over the moon, momentarily blocking out the moonlight. As the last wisps of cover blew away, pain flowed into Levi’s jaw and teeth when he nearly audibly clacked them together in surprise. The scene in front of him was inconceivable. The box seemed to have something attached to it; _it_ was unmistakable.

Stiff fingers were forever shaped into a tightly clenched fist, flexing the forearm but not tensing the bicep. Levi felt a tendril of sleep release him. As the figure pulled more of the torso from the bag, the other arm tumbled out.  It was odd, though. The arms were not stiff like he remembered a corpse’s to be. They seemed…limp. A loud popping and grinding noise sounded with each movement of the torso; belatedly he realized, the sound of bones rolling against each other was not particularly appealing.

The figure dumped the torso on the ground nonchalantly. Understandable, Levi considered. It was already dead; who cared how the body was cared for? The legs were similar to the arms. They splayed in odd directions as the rest of the body was dragged out but the thighs seemed relaxed despite the tensed feet and calf.  The sound of rolling bones seemed to increase with the introduction of the legs. Why were they rolling so much?

            The figure leaned down to retrieve the initial round object and the apparent neck of the torso. Levi cursed under his breath; the figure turned too far to their left with both parts of the corpse for him to see what he was doing. If someone like Nanaba was with him, Levi was positive they would have been pulling at him to leave, twitching in terror, or at the very least, shutting their eyes. Not him; he was normal. Nanaba, he was just a coward. Levi could feel a flicker of the excitement that had long since vanished from his mundane life ignite his system and slightly draw his lips up.

            The person working with the corpse shoved it off their lap, propped it against the wall, and threw a ratty, emerald blanket over its shoulder. The familiar sound of paper crinkling in movement drew Levi’s attention from the body to the person flourishing something in their hand. It was probably a paper. They left it in the lap of the corpse, shielded by the blanket from both wind and Levi’s eyes.

            “What the hell; I can’t see it,” Levi quietly muttered his dissent.

Apparently not quiet enough.

The figure froze and glanced up, surveying the area sharply. Levi stood still; his throat practically sealed together and yet he could faintly taste his last meal tickle at his taste buds. His chest ached slightly at the sudden hole growing where his heart was as his stomach began to beat furiously. Perhaps he would be next. Maybe the figure would draw near to him and whisk him away from these streets, even if only to murder him elsewhere. For that moment, there was no sound cutting the air, just a lingering silence that said almost too much. As sudden as it started, it was over. The person grabbed their bag and surveilled their crime scene once more before dashing out of the alley into the street. A cloud passed over the moon again, a black night enveloping the figure from Levi’s sight.

Levi’s heart slowly rose back to fill the void in his chest but he did not move his eyes from the spot where the person fled. However, perhaps another look at the body would not hurt… The more he approached, the more define shapes became. The blanket the person tossed over the corpse was revoltingly filthy and littered with holes; they might as well had put a few pieces of fabric connected with one string over it. Levi moved closer to see around the blanket. The arms were hidden still by the blanket but appeared to be thin and lanky, unlike his own. The legs did not seem too muscular either, considering they were able to remain under the shitty excuse for a blanket; it seemed more likely that this body was not particularly fit- an easy target, really. The fingernails were chipped to hell and painted a disturbingly bright neon pink. He stopped in his tracks as he took a closer look at the nails. They seemed almost abnormally long, extending nearly to the bones of the first knuckle. Levi wiggled his toes in anticipation at the thought. Levi raked his eyes past the nails to the hand.

There was no skin covering it.

Levi shuddered; he was getting warm. He looked further along. Dimly he noted that the wrist was still intact, giving the heat swelling within him a strong pulse. Carefully, he nudged the blanket off a leg with the sole of his shoe and the fire burned brighter. The earlier hidden arms now made sense. They were so thin because there was no fat and barely any muscle on them either. Nothing but the bones, veins, and dried strips of tissue remained.

Levi ran a hand down his face; this warmth was suffocating him from the inside out. It had been so long since a feeling this strong came over him.

            The corpse looked like a biology class dissection.

            Levi’s burning eyes swept over the head. It too bore no skin nor fat. All that greeted him was rapidly browning muscles and rigid, shriveled lips, much like a fresh apple core. His eyes met bright green and a sliver of a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. All that stared back at him was the final emotion to cross the now dormant mind: fear. The grin stretched further. Levi bent to investigate further; the unpleasant popping had to be bone against bone but from where? Gingerly, he reached an unwavering hand out to lift the arm.

              A twig snapped nearby.

              Instantly, the flames under Levi’s skin were snuffed out. He was cold and aching, those few minutes of warmth enough to bring the pain back. Tearing his eyes from the corpse, Levi looked about him. A bony rat scurried forwards and sprinted towards a leg. It sniffed the limb and began to worm its way through the leathery remains. _Gross_. With his concentration shattered, Levi looked at his surroundings. Cloud tendrils slithered over the moon, casting long shadows and inky blackness over the alleyway. No odd creature crept to corner him nor did any whore slink against the wall to try and seduce him.

              Levi cast his eyes over the corpse once more. In a few hours, this scene would become an official crime scene that would lead to nowhere. It was interesting to stand at the scene of a murder before anyone else knew about the deed. Just like before, his ears ring softly from white noise, the background hum of the world carrying on, oblivious to the heinous action; and an unsettled peace that overcame him.

Levi sighed and turned away. He had work in the morning. He would have to get far away from this alley if he was to have any chance of a plausible alibi when the cops would come knock on his door. They hated him almost as much as he hated the damn freeloaders. They were an added bonus to the nonexistent list of the perks living in Shiganshina brought.

Levi raked back his unkempt, brittle locks and pulled his hood up. It came to a halt above the tip of his nose, cloaking his eyes and concealing his identity from any curious eyes. After all, he was not the only out and about at this time.

Walking faster, Levi hastened out of the back alleys and back onto his trashy street. The pomegranate was nowhere to be seen but the stain of its blood remained. With his house in sight, he jogged the remaining distance to his front door. His potted gladioli flower had fallen over, casting bits of soil onto his cheap welcome mat. Levi rolled his eyes and fished for his keys, ready to just go inside and have a cup of tea. But once he jammed the key in the lock, he looked back at the plant. He could not leave it there. The mat would be dirty all night; he had to fix it. Muttering choice words about pots and flowers under his breath, Levi knelt to correct it.

He brushed the dirt off the mat quickly before righting the plant and replacing the spare key he kept buried in the soil. Faintly, he wondered how the plant even fell. He was sure not to bump it on his way out and it was not windy. Someone would have had to physically displace it. Levi’s eyes widened.

He was not the only one out and about at this time. Quickly, he-


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: dark themes, mentions of blood, etc.  
> Read at your own discretion.

Chapter 2  

              Levi woke with a murderous fury licking every crevice of his soul. The heat of the emotion welled up inside, cranky and demanding to be acknowledged. He could not place a reason for the feeling, though. Not that it mattered; it was here and pounding against his skull. He yawned and threw back his pathetic excuse for a blanket. A loud curse danced off his tongue as a throbbing pulsed rhythmically on the back of his head. Levi shut his eyes firmly and carefully maneuvered around his black, birds’ nest. He winced as his fingertips grazed a soft, large welt. When the hell did that happen? He opened his eyes and sighed; he had fallen asleep in a hoodie and sweats, meaning that he must have gone for another morning stroll.

              “Oh fuck,” he cursed as details came back to him. The skinned corpse fleetingly reappeared in his mind; the figure who arranged it; the fallen plant outside. What happened to the plant? No, what happened to him? One minute he was fixing it, the next he was waking up with a goddamn migraine and a welt the size of his fist on the back of his head. Maybe that was why he was livid; someone had sneaked up on him, _him_ of all people. Diverting from that particularly dangerous road of thought, Levi decided to dwell on the corpse. It probably looked livelier, ha, in the daylight. The person had chosen a good spot to present the body; police would swarm over it the moment a runner called in. At least it would give him something to talk about at work other than his lack of a social life. Speaking of…

Levi looked down at his clock: 8:45 A.M.

“Shit, I’m going to be late again.” Faster than he normally liked, Levi threw on his daily façade and made a quick mirror stop on his way out. His hair was a knotted mess that would not risk the life of his old, lone comb; long black locks fell wildly over his forehead and uncomfortably long strands of resilient locks crafted his admittedly pathetic excuse for an undercut. It had been due for a trim and basic clean-up three weeks ago. Or maybe five? Six? Time was lost on him. He grabbed a bobby pin from the stash he kept in his pants pocket and pinned some of his intruding and unwanted bangs back. Great. Now he looked like a child. Whatever; if someone had something to say about it, he’d acquaint them with his fist. His uniform was standard: an off-white button-down shirt with black skinny slacks and worn down black sneakers. He needed to buy some new clothes and shoes soon. If any more of his clothes got to the point of being labeled “for home only”, he’d have nothing to wear to work. And worse, then his co-workers would get curious and pry.

              The bags under his eyes were a darker violet than usual but Levi didn’t bother trying anything with them. The darker his bags, the easier people dispersed around him. His eyes looked a bit too narrow like he was frustrated─ which he was ─but he just could not find it in himself to care. He was presentable enough to make it through the day without too much conversation, which was all that mattered to him.

              Deeming his appearance decent enough, Levi briskly walked into the kitchenette towards his fridge. He pulled the door open and stared at his three options: a cold cereal bar, some soup from how long ago, and a pasta. None were very appealing so he let the door close. He’d have to go another day without breakfast or lunch if that was all he had until Friday. It was only two days; he could make it.

Probably. If not, he’d just deal with it; It wasn’t like he hadn’t done that before.

Levi checked the pail again but didn’t bother emptying it, considering it seemed like the leak had stopped for now. He grabbed his keys and phone and jogged towards the door.

_Slam!_

The stained, pale ceiling filled his sight again but it was quite blurry. He could distantly tell the back of his head was throbbing, this time even worse from when he woke up. Another fucking hit on the back of hishead and he’d have a concussion. The most he would hope for was no blood. His co-workers would definitely force him to go to the hospital. That and the fact that the blood would pool around his hair and make it sticky and limp and nearly impossible to clean up, and…

_He watched it happen but it all went by so fast. One minute, Mother was standing there, arguing with Father, and the next, she was on the ground, dark crimson seeping from the back of her skull. It did not look right. Normally, she did not bleed that much when Father pushed her around. She never had a puddle that large around her head…_

Levi gasped for air and coughed madly. What did he just see? That was something that he should have _never_ seen again; he put a thick wall around his childhood memories just to be able to function; no one was going to adopt him if he did not, he had to look like a nervous, quiet, but good little boy, he had to-

He blinked rapidly for a minute, trying to get his bearings again. He was no longer a child; he was 26 years old. The orphanage was in his past. Levi tried to refocus his mind on the ceiling. The only thing that managed to stay in his vision was a dark wet spot. Wait, why was he even looking at the ceiling? How did he even fall? He was headed to the door. Levi squinted as he looked around and gently shook his head to try and clear his head. Finally, things were clearing up again. His head still thrummed with relentless energy but for the most part, everything seemed fine, normal even. His two jackets were hanging on their designated hooks and not a shoe to trip him was in sight.

A white envelope, however, lay conveniently on the ground only a foot or two away from him. Half of Levi wanted to open the letter and read whatever was inside but the other half was content with just ripping it up and feeding the pieces to the stovetop burners. He told the mailman _years_ ago never to deliver the mail through his mail slot and just to leave it in the box he put outside under his gladioli. Levi muttered another explicative and rose to his feet. He snatched the damn letter off the floor and glared at it. It bore no name except his own, neatly typed from what appeared to be a typewriter. There was no return address nor any other markings for that matter on the envelope.

Levi pulled out his phone and checked the time. 9:15 A.M.

Well, he was already late, might as well be later. Curiosity and annoyance peaked, he ripped the envelope open and groaned as smaller papers fell to the floor. He took out the letter still trapped in the envelope before crouching down to pick the fallen papers up but hesitated slightly as he saw what actually fell. It was a picture. They were all pictures. Adjusting his current position, Levi stooped closer to examine the images. He picked up one overturned image and looked at the back. It too bore no writing. He flipped the picture over, curious, and froze. The memory fluttered down from his cemented fingers onto the darkening floor.

~!~

              The murder scene was discovered. The moment Levi stepped foot inside the building, it was all anyone was talking about.

              “Did you hear about what happened in Shiganshina last night? How could anyone do something so inhumane?”

              “But it’s Shiganshina. They all act like depraved animals over there.”

              “I’m scared! Do you think the killer will come for one of us?”

              “If any pompous ass thinks that they can just waltz into my house and skin me like that slut, they have another thing coming.”

              “But that is hard to do though, right? I mean, the Trost Police Department is a central force in the city.”

              “Trost PD can’t do shit; where have you been the last three years when crime became literal second nature over there. For a while, my mom was worried because she lived on the border between Shiganshina and Rose’s boroughs. She told me they started doing patrols with dogs. _Dogs!_ ”

              “Maybe the killer is a new mob head!”

              “I heard that it’s a deranged ex-police officer doing the killings. That’s how they were able to be so undetectable in the city.”

              “That sounds like literal bullshit,” Levi finally interjected as he came to his cubicle. Instantly, his… _acquaintances_ …gathered around him.

              “Well, what do you think, Levi?” a girl with bright hazel eyes asked. She was one of the newer employees so he didn’t know her name, not that he’d try to learn it anyway. She could be a real bitch.

“They’re probably just some fucked up person looking for attention, like the whole lot of serial killers.”

              “Not all serial killers are fucked up, Levi,” Nanaba rebutted as he too entered the ranks of people surrounding Levi.

              “Sure, I guess since they can be people who work in boring cubicles, repairing computers all day that fixes everything” Levi sighed. “Nanaba, killing people in general makes you fucked up, you serial killer apologist.” The others laughed but Nanaba furrowed his brow before raising his hands in surrender. Levi rolled his eyes playfully and forced a tiny, amused grin to grace his lips. He should not have said that. He did not mean to even extend the story of the murder. But then again, he still was not quite all there; half his attention was at work among colleagues and the other half was at home, still trying to piece together that letter.

              “Don’t you guys have jobs to do?” he mumbled just loud enough for the others to catch it. He watched as they slowly dispersed in pairs, Nanaba lingering as if to say something but ultimately decided not to and walked away. They were like reluctant leeches, unsure whether they really wanted to suckle on him forever content or slip away to someone else. Finally alone in the peace of his neat cubicle, Levi stared at his computer screen. While the headlines were still obnoxious as ever, he breathed a sigh of relief for nothing of the murder or of the-

              Nope! Levi shook his head roughly and bit back a curse at the painful throb on the back of his head. His bobby pin slid slightly out of place. He was not going to think about it. He had work to do and dwelling on the past wasn’t going to help him at all. He had a stack of papers to type up and send to the main archives practically gift-wrapped and ready for him to sink his fingers into. Levi grabbed the first inch or so and began clacking away at his keyboard.

              Typing was soothing, therapeutic even. Just mindlessly hitting keys. Clack, clack, clack. But there were always the temporary bursts of brute force Levi liked. It was soothing, really. Just hit the keyboard, each time getting faster and faster, the words bring ripped from plain white paper and forced onto the screen. Faster and faster, harder and harder. The water used to splash out of the tub every time she… Levi’s back tingled faintly. Faster, harder, the jingle of the buckles against the leather, the increasing pace, the countless scars… The enjoyment was never lost on him…

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there typing. Time was blending together again but it felt like it had been a while. Levi tore his eyes from the computer after he slapped on the last period and looked around. Most of the other cubicles were empty so it was probably morning break time. He rose from his chair slowly, groaning as his spine cracked in smooth succession and his joints popped in syncopation. He just _loved_ the feeling of getting older year after year.

              Levi leisurely walked into the break room. Most of his colleagues were there, sipping on coffee while eating sandwiches from Subway. Levi hated their food; he didn’t think they were sanitary enough, not to mention everything tasted like rubber. Someone turned on the T.V.

              “Hey Levi!” some guy with brown hair shouted. “Finally out of the little coup, yah? You should eat something since you worked through the first break.” Levi raised an eyebrow at the last bit and whirled around to read the clock above the door, much to the guy’s amusement. Sure enough, it was already 12:45 P.M.

              “When the hell did that happen?” he swore. “I literally just sat down.” Great. Now he was going to _have_ to stick around the break room if he was going to eat anything.

“You seemed in the zone so we didn’t bother you,” an insignificant voice contributed. Although…maybe he could skip another meal and just grab something on the way home? But if the rumbles of a protesting stomach had anything to say, that sounded like a horrible idea. On the outside, however, Levi just shook his head and chuckled before speaking.

 “I guess I better grab a bite then.” He grabbed the nearest Italian dressing packet and a BLT from the sandwich platter while the conversation continued on without him. He tuned it out. Hopefully, if he just pretended to be engaged in deep thought or something, the others would leave him alone.

“Hey Levi,” Nanaba started with a small smile. For the love of God, why couldn’t he just shut his fucking mouth? Levi grunted around a mouthful of food and raised his eyebrows in greeting. “So, I noticed you look tense today.” Levi paused his internal rant. “Your movements are stiff and your expressions have not varied all day; you’ve been perpetually glaring. Also, the purple bags speak for themselves.” Levi cursed.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” he replied, the lie flowing off his lips almost as easily as his name.

Nanaba leveled his eyebrows and tucked a loose, short blond hair behind his ear. “You can’t lie to me, Levi,” Nanaba whispered. “I know you. What’s wrong? You’re like, all sorts of messed up today.”

Levi narrowed his eyes. Nanaba was such an ass for pulling the friendship card. He may think he knew everything about him, but he was sorely mistaken. Nanaba didn’t know about the letter, didn’t know he takes 3 A.M. strolls, didn’t know why he really moved back to Shiganshina five years ago, didn’t even _know_ he was─ “Look, I’m just tired and stressed. Money problems,” Levi lied again.

“You know you can come to me if you need anything, right?” Nanaba pushed. “I know you don’t like asking for help but-“

“Nanaba,” Levi interrupted. “Drop it. Please.” Levi trained his eyes on his Subway and forced himself to choke down another lump of plastic.

              “I can’t believe it!” someone nearby exclaimed. “Why is it that none of the news stations are talking about the murder? I mean, it is pretty graphic and no one does that in Shiganshina. But I guess the place _is_ loaded with crime; murder may not be a big deal.” Levi had to restrain himself from scoffing; wasn’t like any of the others actually _knew_ what went on in Shiganshina. Nope, the furthest their troubles related to was whether to swipe left or right on their goddamn phones.

              “If there are more, there probably will be something on it,” Nanaba pointed out.

              “D-Do you think they would strike again?” a tiny ginger squeaked. Levi didn’t even know she worked on his floor.

              “Oi, all of you, chill with the murder talk,” Levi interjected. “You’ll make her”- he jabbed a thumb in the ginger’s direction- “piss her pants. Nothing’s going to happen, the police will catch whoever is behind it.” Even though the words were meant for his co-workers, he could not help but dwell on them. The police did not even try to catch the average Shiganshinian criminal; he carried no hopes towards them arresting this killer.

              _But what if next time.…_

              No. That was behind him and he was not going to look back. He was fine, now; everything **is** fine, dammit.

              “Alright everyone, back to work!” he barked after swallowing the last bite of his god-awful sandwich.

              “Ah, what about 10 more minutes, Levi,” someone else whined playfully. This time it was a girl with a shaved head. He probably should have paid more attention to learning his subordinates’ names. He guessed it did not matter too much. After all, he got along well enough without them.

              “No,” he replied with a slight upturn of his lips. There, his mandatory “I-am-fine” smile for the day could be checked off his list and Nanaba could shut up. “You take forever to finish your shit and I want to go home on time.” With that, the gaggle of employees shuffled back out to their cubicles. But once Levi sat down in front of that glowing screen, he fidgeted. A certain white envelope flashed through his mind.

-!-

              Walking home from the bus stop at the edge of Rose borough was like going from a mansion to the shitty, decaying shack in the backyard hidden behind overgrown shrubs. But Levi was used to the inevitable change of air quality, the immediate change in scenery, and the change of care among the inhabitants. While he walked down the crumbling sidewalk, he passed the same bloodied pomegranate spot. In the light, he saw the rotten fruit had been merely kicked to the side. Now punctured and spilling its seeds again, it drenched a new patch of concrete, summoning the ants that were now crawling around it.

              Disgusting.

              Levi walked up to his door and fished out his keys. As he jostled with the lock, his favorite neighbor yanked her door open.

              “Hay! You’s better stop goin’ out in the morns or at the ver’ least, give ‘at door a good oilin’,” the old and lovely Brenda Morana screeched. “I can ‘ear it! All the way w’en I’m sleepin’!” As she spoke, her dentures noisily clacked around, distorting the sound, but she did not seem to notice or care for that matter.

              “Sorry,” Levi grunted. He shoved the door open as discreetly as he could while he spoke. “I don’t know what to put on the hinges since I’ve oiled it before. Maybe there’s a new product out that I can use.”

              “Yeeh!” she exclaimed. She glared at Levi once more before turning back into her tiny apartment and slowly shuffling inside, the door closing just as slowly behind her. Levi did not waste any time once Brenda’s door clicked shut. He forced his own open and wriggled in. On the floor, the letter, pictures, and envelope were still scattered about, exactly how he’d left them earlier. He stooped down to pick up a lone picture separated from the others – the one that he touched earlier. There were no dates or markings for that matter on the image. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he flicked his wrist and turned the picture over. Again, Levi’s chest tightened and the air that resided in his lungs rushed out faster than he anticipated. His grip slackened slightly as well but he forced himself to calm down, breathe, and tighten his hold. The picture was simple black and white and not grainy in the slightest. He could make out the faint outline of his backpack against the tree stump. Tall, thick trees framed the background. The leaves were spotted with black in the picture, but Levi knew their true color. The object of the image, however, displayed something more worrying.

              It was his him around the age of 12, carrying his bloodied butcher’s knife and walking into his demented playground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update should be rather soon, sorry for the delay.  
> EDIT: Levi's age was incorrectly stated. He is 26.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

              Normally, Levi enjoyed the freedom the weekend brought. No such feelings graced his system at the moment. Perhaps it– no, it definitely ─stemmed from being jolted awake around 4 A.M. with an untamable rage. The rain started coming in again. This time, in his bedroom above his mattress.

              “Fuck…” he rasped as a succession of droplets began pelting his face. He lurched up and reached for a pail with one hand while wiping the water from his face with the other, water soaking his bedsheets and make-shift mattress in the meantime. “This goddamn roof is fucking full of holes!” he shouted angrily as he slammed the bucket down where his head rest a second prior and watched the water collect. Fantastic. Now that his bed was soaked, sleep was no longer a viable option. Looked like it was going to be yet again another early morning. Levi groaned and turned to go in the kitchenette. He was not particularly hungry but he ambled towards the fridge anyway. He yanked the door open and stared at the poor contents: the cold cereal bar, the pasta that was beginning to smell like curdled milk, and the suspicious soup.

              Again, he closed the door. Levi sighed quietly and looked across his home. Everywhere was neat and orderly but no matter how clean the place was, it was still a mess. The couch was broken because it came with the shack and Levi could not afford to buy a better one. The roof obviously had holes fucking everywhere and left surprise leaks in new places everywhere he went. Pails to collect the leaking water were also everywhere. He could not bump the countertop or else it would move. The water from the tap was cloudy, unsafe to drink, and carried a pungent odor most days. What the hell was he living in? Why was he even still here? Shiganshina did nothing but fuck him up worse than he already was in the Sina slums. Why the hell did he force himself to stay? If Father was alive, he would scoff at him in disgust and try to bind him in the closet for telling himself lies. Probably try to shove a can of shit down his throat, too. But, he knew why he was still there. He still clung feebly to that terribly naïve, half-baked seed of hope Father warped but never managed to beat out of him.

              “He’s not coming back,” Levi muttered to himself and ran a hand through his slick hair. He should towel dry it soon. Levi blinked, snapping himself out of his introspection and coming back to his depressing reality.

              Levi’s eyes drifted to the counter. Sitting casually upon it was the blank letter. He should have thrown it out as soon as he read it. Anyone else would have called the police. Of those two options, he probably should have just thrown it out. But he did not. Now it was sitting on his counter, feigning innocence. He approached the envelope with his eyes narrowed and lips firmly pressed into a line. He raised it to his eyes like he did each day for the past week and examined it once more. The corners were now crinkled and the fold lines looked ready to be torn. He scanned the envelope again, looking for any smudges of ink that could possibly reveal a return address.

              Just like the last twenty times, he found none. Only his name, written by a typewriter, marked the page. _How childish,_ he thought as he removed the contents of the envelope. He placed the letter back on the counter and let it slip his mind as he took the pictures out and placed them on the countertop as well. The first image was of him when he was about 12, walking with a bloodied knife. The second was much more recent; he was sitting at his old kitchen table from at least two years ago, staring aimlessly as he picked at a bowl of fruit. The third was in color and the image was of Levi among his old work colleagues. It had been so long since he quit that job, he could barely remember their names. He was smiling. How nice. It was probably fake.

              The final picture was more recent than the others he assumed. It featured a close snapshot of Levi’s eyes in black and white but they were looking elsewhere. Levi frowned; who could have been close enough to him to take such a detailed picture of his eyes without him noticing? There was no time stamp so he could not be completely sure as to when the images were taken. He shoved that issue to the back of his mind. Now that he had them delicately arranged on the counter, Levi retrieved the letter. It too was typed by a typewriter, like his name on the envelope.

              Hello, my dearest Levi,

I have waited a long time for this moment. I hope you do not disappoint. Do you actually think you can stay where you are? You are like me. There is no place to hide.

    

              The same as every other time, Levi was stumped. What the hell was this person talking about? The question had been gnawing on him for the past week. Of course he was going to fucking stay where he was; he couldn’t fucking afford to live anywhere better than this shed of a home. But still, he wasn’t hiding from anyone. He kept the niceties up and that was all other people needed to know. Not everyone grew up in a shitty family and no one wanted to know how that actually fucks with a person. Keeping that to himself was not hiding, it was survival. Levi’s survival. He was not like some other person on this block. Levi knew he used to have a host of…issues. But they were gone now. Now, he was fine, normal even, albeit with just a few more skeletons in his closet than most.

              “I don’t know who this piece of shit thinks they are,” Levi muttered aloud. He dropped the letter back onto the counter and yanked a drawer open. But instead of opening the drawer, the small knob for a handle merely broke off in his palm. Just his fucking luck. Painful stabs of cold quickly jabbed at each crevice of his organs, spreading its chilling tendrils throughout his body like an icy wave. Someone yelled and instantly, his concentration was shattered. Levi whipped around. Who the fuck just screamed at him? The voice seemed like it was right behind him. Not knowing the answers to his own goddamn questions was becoming a frequent pain in his ass.

              Levi glared at the sink before turning around again. In the center of his tiny foyer wall, a small hole left spider web cracks spindling every which way away from the source. His right hand was clenched tightly, but there was no longer a small weight inside it.

              As the puzzle pieced itself together, Levi groaned again at his own stupidity. Fuck, he needed to leave. He grabbed his keys and dying phone from the empty fruit bowl and trekked out the door. It shrieked again as he opened it but Brenda was the last thing on his mind.

              No star lit the sky as he walked the usual route. He passed the rotting pomegranate that seemed to be the home of a cockroach now and its bloody pavement stains. Turned right up the road. Images of the other night flashed briefly. In two alleys to come, Levi could still see the yellow police tape blocking passage to the scene. _Keep walking. Don’t look. Ignore it._ Before he even realized it, he already passed the opening, not thinking about the letter in the slightest. A shiver tore through Levi’s body; he should have grabbed a coat or something; November mornings were not the time of T-shirts and shorts. It was probably in the thirties. Well, shit.  

              The further he walked, the shittier his surroundings became. The air was rich with the scent of freshly smoked weed and the rhythmic moans and slaps of whores and customers fucking. They must be starting early today. The city businessmen must have taken the early bus in order to indulge in Shiganshina’s women before the workday. Away from the whore house, he passed a house that looked like one strong gust of wind could topple it. Its windows were broken and graffiti littered its side. He paused in his morning walk to stare, allowing waves of memories to wash over him. That dark hickory oak door was slammed on his face more times than he could count, thanks to his lovely brother. Oh, the many times that the two of them came home with blood caked on their faces and clothes to their mother’s horror. Oh, the times that Levi kept quiet as his brother forced him to relive the nightmares he hoped were burned to hell in that damn fire. Levi cast a quick grin as his bangs briefly shadowed his eyes before he stepped forward to continue the walk.

              Good times.

              A lonesome bird cried out before taking flight out of a nearby tree. Levi ignored it in favor of reminiscing big brother dearest. He was always there to talk to him, teach him how and when to use his words, how to lie, how to imitate and mask… Levi owed so much to him. He was truly the perfect guide.

And he suffered brilliantly for it.

Levi shook his head, sloppy bangs flying back to their place over his eyes. He needed to trim them; the constant flipping was getting less and less trivial each day. Somewhere, a car alarm began to sound. He must have finally made it near the edge of the borough towards the city. His favorite little convenient shop was nearby. Levi jogged the remaining distance and shoved open the door to the twenty-four hour shop.

“Why can’t you come in at a normal time like a normal person?” the salesclerk asked as she looked away from a tabloid long enough to recognize him. He didn’t know her name but she always worked the night shift, the same time Levi went to the store.

“I have a job during the day and no desire to sleep,” he replied to her. She rolled her eyes and returned to the magazine, leaving Levi in silence as he shopped. The shop was never adequately stocked at night but that was okay considering it was the only cheap store with reliable products _and_ open at all hours. He paced the aisles slowly, gathering whatever he needed but primarily food. He brought nearly twenty cans of soup to the counter. The salesclerk smiled as he approached. Her face was pink as she scanned each item and asked him about his job. Levi ignored her and to his amusement, her pathetic attempts to break the silence dwindled to nothing.

Levi had to stop himself from chuckling as she handed him his bags of cans and mumbled a goodbye. She was fun to toy with when he was bored, another reason that kept him coming back to this particular, out of the way store.

Walking back was a chore. The sun clawed its way into the night sky, stabbing dark blue with sharp blades of purples and watching it bleed streaks of pink. A new day was dawning. The troubles of the week past would blow over soon enough. Then, he could just relax and forget about them.

Not even the siren wails from police cars speeding down the street could stop that.

-!@-

  _He was warm. No, that was not right. He was more than just warm; the warmth enveloped him. He turned slightly, a foreign emotion trying to swell within him as he tried to wiggle his way free. His encasement only tightened._

_“Little Lee, what are you doing?” Her voice was as soft as her arms around him and inviting like the warmth that permeated throughout his body._

_“I’m not little!” he protested fiercely as he tried to push her arms away. “Mom said I’m just taking a break from growing.” She laughed loudly and rubbed his head, effectively ruining his neatly brushed back hair._

_“Okay, if you insist. Why are you wiggling away?” she questioned, all the while slipping her arms away from his shoulders and sliding them down to wrap them around his waist. Fingers nudged the hem of his shirt aside and began caressing and rubbing small circles on his hips._

_“I didn’t know who was touching me,” he admitted. “I don’t like to be touched if I don’t know who is touching me.”_

_“Oh, sorry for alarming you,” she instantly apologized. He felt a soft pressure on the crown of his head and smiled. She was so loving and motherly towards him. Levi could not get enough of it._

_“Little Lee, why did you do it to me?” That caught his attention. What did he do? “Why did you hurt me?” Her arms no longer seemed soft. They were wrapping themselves tighter around his waist while simultaneously growing hard and taut. The warmth that embodied both voice and body was rapidly ebbing away. He did not like this anymore. Her gentle fingers were becoming ridge, bony, and sharp, piercing the flesh of his waist. She continued questioning him, her voice getting raspier and colder with each question, as he kicked and squirmed to turn and face the culprit. He felt his skin give in his struggles, a soaking wetness now palpable on his stomach._

_Deep brown eyes seemed to stare straight through him. Levi’s eyes, however, were drawn to a much more intriguing image; a trickle of deep red slowly dripped off the corpse’s lips and blossomed again underneath her left breast. Her pale white skin shone brilliantly against the richness of the red._

_“Why would you do this to me?” she repeated once more before stilling completely, slumped over him._

Levi shot up from his brief slumber. His left cheek was cold and stiff, much like the corpse that lingered over him years prior. His heart beat fiercely in his chest ─ normal. There was no flurry of thoughts in his mind either ─ normal. No conflicting emotions ─ he seemed normal, fine. So why was he confused? Levi ran a hand over his face. This happened every time he dreamed of her, his sister. After her death, he did nothing but dream of her. Each touch, every ruffle of his hair, even the stupid nickname she gave him. But that was when he was young and unaccustomed to death, when he didn’t understand everything she had done. Now, he barely spared her a thought. She was where she belonged ─ rotting in hell with the rest of his beloved birth family. When he died, were people going to do this to him? Think of him for a solid month after his passing then move on like he never existed as more than just a memory in the smallest cranny of their mind?

Levi did not really care. Death was death; it took everyone at some point. It could happen at any moment, prompted or unprompted, assisted or unassisted, accidental or intentional, by extraordinary measures of fate or by human intervention. It did not matter how it happened because it would happen anyway. If you were strong, you’d find a way out of it each time its spindly tentacles tried to ensnare you. That’s all there was to it. And if death was inevitable, why were people so damn afraid of it? They all get scared of the same damn thing they can’t control. People were just cowardly infants who whined and cried over the most trivial things. So what if there was a killer on the loose? The worst that could happen is that they die, something that would have happened anyway.

Levi slouched over the counter in the same position he was in before he fell asleep. His eyes drifted to the open letter again. As much as he hated the fucking weaklings who whimpered at the slightest mention of a damn funeral, he could understand the desire to want to live, to be happy as you lived, and to be as happy as possible as long as you can. But fuck, if anyone was having a hard time getting there, it was him. The last time he’d actually been happy was _years_ ago when he was no more than sixteen years old. A decade later and he hadn’t been that happy since. He was bored. Bored with his mediocre life, his just above minimum wage job, and his expectation that Shiganshina would offer him something, anything.

Levi picked up the letter again and read the words he already memorized. As bored as he was, the letter offered…something. An escape from the boredom. So he read it again. He was not keen on playing into this stalker’s hands, but taking on a new role could be interesting. Levi folded the letter and placed it back on the counter.

A loud clank snapped Levi out of his musings. He jerked his head up to face the front door, eyes sharp. On the floor in front of it, sat another white letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Turkey Day, Americans.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of blood

Chapter 4

Levi stared at the letter on the floor. He could see the typed letters on the envelope, probably spelling out his name. He started towards the envelope but hesitated. This was the second letter. He did not know who they were from, nor the reason he specifically was receiving them. Maybe he should—. No; he shouldn’t. Levi sucked his teeth. He had to make his mind up right now- no more bullshit hesitating dances. With a sharp exhale, Levi shook his head once and continued his stride towards the letter. He grabbed it off the floor and examined it again, turning it over and inspecting for any possible signs of a slip-up.

He was not that lucky.

Levi grasped the letter tightly in his hand and knelt down to the mail slot on the door. He pressed a finger against it, popping it open, and looked outside. As far as he could tell, no one was outside, although, his gladioli was knocked over again. Levi scowled in annoyance and let the slot snap shut. Whoever slipped the letter was already gone. Fantastic. He turned and slid down the door, opting to open the envelope resting on the floor. The letter was well sealed like the first, provoking his seemingly unending exasperation. Levi wiggled his bony finger under the corner and pulled across, ripping the sealed flap at its crease. He fished out the lone paper and tossed the envelope aside. The document was folded into thirds, and three images slid out as he unfolded it. Considering his prior reactions to seeing the pictures, Levi decided to read the letter before he jumped to the pictures.

Dearest Levi,

Oh, you don’t know how glad I am that you so warmly received my first letter. Don’t deny it; I know you read it several times. But you seem unhappy. Is it because deep inside you know the truth? You and I are the same in more ways than you may think.

Don’t hide from me.

Levi frowned. There the creep was again, trying to convince Levi they were alike. He did not even know who the fuck was sending him these letters, much less if they indeed had any similarities with each other. And what the hell did they mean by, “You seem unhappy”? He felt fine! He _was_ fine. _Perfectly_ _fine,_ dammit. Why did everyone and their fucking mother think that something was bothering him? He had a shitty job- as did everyone else on the fucking planet. That and he was bored with life. But that did not make him stand under the umbrella term “unhappy”. Being unhappy required something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was just tired and irritable. He needed something to wake him up, give him a reason to do or feel something. The more Levi stared at the neatly arranged words on the paper, the warmer he became. Who the hell did this person think they were? He did not need a crackpot nutcase attempt to be his sideline therapist.

Levi rolled his eyes and tossed the paper aside in favor of collecting the pictures. The first was an image of him in black and white inspecting a can of something. Probably soup. The second, also in black and white, showed him slumped on his lone bar stool, asleep with an unfolded paper resting beside his head. Wait a second… Levi looked closer at the images in question. They looked recent. Really recent. Like, this-happened-just-about-two-hours-earlier recent. He was wearing the same clothes as he was in the photos and he went out earlier to buy canned food.

Shit.

“How the hell did they get in my house to take these?” Levi cursed aloud. _But more importantly, how did I not notice?_ Somewhere in the house, something let out a groan. Instantly, Levi was on his feet. He spun about, quickly looking over the couch area. Empty. He dropped the other two images and quietly padded over to his kitchenette. Mentally, Levi applauded himself for deciding to wear socks to sleep last night. In his haste to leave on his walk this morning, he would have forgotten to put them on. Now, they silenced his every movement. Levi tapped his thigh impatiently, gathering his attention back to the matter at hand. He scanned the kitchenette quickly but thoroughly. Again, it was empty.

Time for his bedroom he supposed. Hastily, Levi walked towards the room. The door was still open as it was this morning. He crept closer, ready to put whoever was in his house into a permanent chokehold. Cautiously, he looked around the frame of the door, only to be greeted by the sight of nothing. The only things there were his pitiful bed and the bucket still collecting drop after drop of leaking water. His endeavors were for naught. The only other room in his house was empty.

No one was in his house.

Levi sighed and dropped his raised arms to his side with a loud smack. What a waste of time. He stalked out of his bedroom back towards the front door to clean up the mess he left. Soon enough, Levi was squatting over the letter, pictures, and envelope strewn about. He reread the message and rolled his eyes before gathering the pictures next and looked through each again. It wasn’t until he got to the last picture that he remembered he had not seen them all.

He could not stop the trembling in his hand as he took in the image.

It was one in color, of him and his older sister holding hands and walking down the block. He remembered that sidewalk well. She would take him there to play whenever Mother got too drunk or Father got too violent. When they both were out of their normal states, the sidewalk was not far enough to escape the shouting.

“ _Never walk into the street without looking both ways, okay? You could get seriously hurt if you don’t and then I’d be sad.”_

“ _I don’t want to make you sad. I’ll look both ways twice!”_

Levi blinked out of the memory. There was no sun. He was in his house, not outdoors on that sidewalk. It was strange how these letters seemed to thrive on making him relive his youth. This was the second time in one week he gave his sister a passing thought. It was not often that he thought of his siblings. He did not even have any pictures of them in his own house.

So how the fuck did this asshole of all people get their grubby, little hands on one?

-!@#-

By the time a third letter slipped its way inside Levi’s home, all of Shiganshina knew about the serial killings. Some had taken to calling them B.K.S., short for Butcher Kill Skin, the murderer’s signature mark. Levi thought the name was stupid; there were a plethora of options that would have sounded much better. As he walked to work, he could hear the murmurs from a small group of boys in an alley.

“Did you hear about the third body they found?”

“Wasn’t it skinned again— B.K.S.’s work?”

“He must be good if there have been three murders and the SPD still hasn’t sent anyone to actually investigate.”

“They’re not sending anyone because they’re fucking idiots and probably don’t know where to start.”

“What kind of guy thinks it is okay to kill someone by skinning them and severing their limbs, just to sew them back together with their own skin. Like, that was a person who lived and breathed and had a family, probably. To do that to someone… It is disgusting.”

Disgusting? Yes. Levi shuddered at the prospect of the amount of blood that skinning a human would create. Such a mess. Creative? Also a yes. After all, arranging a puppet on strings is a hell of a lot easier than arranging a skinned corpse with strings of dried skin. Impressive to pull off on three different people in the span of two and a half weeks? Another resounding yes. Even if the Shiganshina Police Branch were shit in solving anything, three murders without so much as a trace were impressive at the very least.

By the time Levi reached his job, thoughts of murder and a certain murderer still swirled about his mind. He barely noticed when he boarded and hopped off the bus. His thoughts were in conflict and severe disarray, but they all revolved around the idea deep inside him, one that hadn’t left him since that day twenty years ago.

“ _You ain’t goin’ and that’s final!”_

_“It is my life, Dad! You can’t control me anymore!”_

_“You think you’re such a grown-up? Git over ‘ere! I’ll show you what grown-ups really do at home!”_

Levi blinked. When did he get in the elevator? He could not remember… He racked his mind, peeling back each layer of thought. Murder to murderer. Murderer to B.K.S. B.K.S. to—

“Excuse me, sir?” And there went his train of thought. Dammit. Levi forced himself to swallow the angry curse trying to bubble out of his throat.

“What?” he snapped. Still rude, but better than calling the other a cock slut.

“Ah, you haven’t pressed a number so I was wondering what floor you are getting off at.” He turned around and looked the girl up and down; she was short with blonde hair and wide hazel eyes.

“Floor 6,” he replied in a calmer tone. He glanced at the button pad as the girl pressed the bolded 6. The 3 was also pressed. She would depart soon enough. He could attempt to be polite for a few minutes.

Instead of glaring at the girl, Levi merely ignored her. Before he knew it, the elevator came to a halt and chimed as the doors opened. She rushed out without another word, heels clicking unnecessarily loud on the tiled floor. The moment the doors closed, Levi started pacing. Something important was on the tip of his tongue but he forgot it. Gone. Poof.

Dammit.

The elevator chimed again and the doors swung open. Levi stumbled out of the elevator unsteady on his feet. At least no one saw him. No one would ask him that dreaded question.

“Morning Levi!” someone entirely too cheerful greeted him. “Oh, you don’t look so good. Are you okay?” And there it was. There it _fucking_ was: the million dollar question everyone seemed to think would solve anyone’s issues at any time.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled and trudged towards his cubicle. Levi could feel warmth rising up within himself again. Typically, it held no specific feeling but today, all he seemed to ooze was discontentment. He exhaled deeply and shook out his clenched fists. He’d have to be very careful today, reign in his anger.

No one else in the office tried to approach him as he made himself a cup of coffee and returned to the ever-growing stack of papers on his desk. As he sipped the bitter flavor, Levi relaxed his brow and rolled his shoulders back before immersing himself in work. Yet, coffee, no matter how much he drank, never kept him awake. Perhaps the caffeine content was too low? Either way, his eyelids became a thousand pounds and Levi knew his head bobbed as his typing slowed and he caught himself nodding off. Maybe a quick nap was a good idea, just to get his focus back. Yeah…

 

 

 

 

 

_“Hey son, how are you?” A man in a purple scrubs looked him in the eye with a smile. “My name is Nurse Samuel Dawes but you can just call me Sammy; I’ll be taking care of you.” What happened for him to be placed in a hospital?_

“ _Why am I here? How did I get here?” Levi asked. “Where are my parents?”_

_“I bet you’re nice and rested since you’ve been asleep for a bit, isn’t that right kiddo?” Nurse Sammy went on, ignoring Levi’s questions._

_“Can you answer me, please? Where are my parents? Where is my big sister?”_

“ _Can you rate the pain for me? One is you’re feeling great and ten is that you feel like you broke your leg. It can be a cut on your arm or something in your head, okay?” Why couldn’t this damn nurse just listen to him? He had actual questions._

“ _Where. Are. My. Parents. And. Sister?” Levi tried again, this time quite slowly and concisely. Nurse Sammy scrunched his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak, but did not say anything. Instead, he placed a hand on Levi’s forehead and scribbled down some words on his chart. Levi looked down at his hands in frustration and sharply inhaled._

_They were dripping with red._

_Abruptly, the room around him began to change. His bed vanished underneath him and Levi fell to his feet. The friendly blue paint melted off the walls as they took on pale green. Nurse Sammy collapsed and writhed on the floor, hair lengthening, body shrinking, and skin paling. Shortly after, Levi found himself facing Mrs. Church. He was alone, standing over her in the bathtub filled to the brim with deeply rose-colored water. Droplets would wet the floor soon. Her eyes were glassy but open and permanently casting fear. They looked weird; he should close them. As the tips of his fingers brushed the cooling skin, a hand shot out of the water and latched onto his shoulder. Blood slowly pumped out from her slit wrists onto his shirt, leisurely seeping through the fabric and warming his pale skin. Fearful, dead eyes swiveled in their sockets to meet his._

_“Don’t hide from me, Levi.”_

Levi blinked out of his dream, breathing heavily. He was on his feet, like in his dream, while a hand was clamped firmly on his shoulder. He tried to shrug off the hand but whoever was holding him hostage was doing a damn good job. His stomach churned uncomfortably as he glanced about. Everyone was staring at him with wide eyes. The emotions were easy to read; in some eyes, concern floated but in most, outrage. Nanaba was seated on the floor, helping some crying new brunette on the floor. Why was she crying? She cradled her hand to her chest tighter with each sob and scrambled away from Levi when she managed to open her eyes for longer than a moment. There were streaks of crimson leaking around her uninjured hand and dripping onto her shirt.

Oh no.

Not again.

Immediately, Levi looked at his hand. Thick drops of rich crimson decorated his fist as well as the letter-opener sitting in his clenched fist, its blade bathed in blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: graphic corpse description, violence

Chapter 5

The girl needed ten stitches in her hand. Apparently, Levi sliced it open when she tried to wake him up. That was pretty stupid of her; he did not ask to be woken up. She was the reason he found himself at home again, entirely too early for a Tuesday, staring at the third letter from his personal stalker. This time, however, there was only one picture with the document.

 

Dearest Levi,

 

I watched you read my last letter. It seemed to get to you. That’s good; you mustn’t neglect your past. You need to embrace it to grow. I will help you with that.

 

I have sent you three letters now and you have not spoken to anyone about them. I trust you will continue to keep these letters to yourself; I would not want to have to add your beautiful body to my collection of puppets.

 

Levi barely registered his eyebrow twitch. So, his pen-pal was the murdering psychopath rampaging Shiganshina who the cops were desperate to find. Whoever this person was had access to him. They knew his past including some of the darker secrets only he knew, where he lived, and even his daily habits. Levi raised his eyes from the letter and looked around sharply. He breathed out a sigh of relief when no one suddenly appeared holding a black bag to tie over his head and drag him from his bar stool. “This is ridiculous. I’m being paranoid,” he muttered and placed the letter on the counter. “This is probably just a stalker.”

Levi kneaded his temple with his fingers. Why did this self-proclaimed killer even take an interest in him, a man who tried to make it through the workday without being noticed? Why did they send him three godforsaken letters and wouldn’t just leave him alone? He already faced his past each day when he watched the other kids leave with new families. It was nothing more than an ugly stamp on his papers. He did not need a damn stranger to try and force him to go through that again.

Whatever; he was fine. His eyes wandered over to the lone photograph lying beside the ripped envelope. The body in the picture was like the other victims. It was completely skinned and dried, not a drop of blood to be found. Paling pink muscles were still attached to their bones and abdominal organs kept within by a thin, single layer of connective tissue.  Well, shit. So much for just being a stalker. Nothing was spared in B.K.S.’s sculpture; even the eyelids were cut off. Wide hazel eyes stared into the camera, emotions frozen in the colorful depths. They seemed scared. And familiar.

The body was clearly severed at every joint. Levi brought the picture closer to his eyes. There was something else about the joints, something on them. Skin. Discolored strands of dried skin were laced through each part, connecting the body together again.  The corpse was positioned over a table, hips jutting out like an impatient server waiting on a customer’s order. But Levi was drawn to her eyes. He was certain he’d just seen those eyes a mere few hours ago. But who?  

-@!#-

Levi faced the door of his third and final job interview for the day. The place itself was small and narrow, neighbor to an equally shoddy apartment. Frilly handwriting decorated the glass door and spelled out The Pressman’s Grotto. A faded red help wanted sign hung underneath the store name. A wind tore through his feeble knock-off suit jacket and with a sigh, Levi pushed the door open. A bell rang at his entry as a wall of stuffy warmth smacked his face. He gagged and coughed.

“Hello! Welcome to The Pressman’s Grotto; how may I help you?” came a muffled greeting. Levi looked over and found a small desk tucked between bookshelves that dwarfed it. Behind it stood a man with long russet hair messily pulled back and wore a doctor’s lab coat. He had his back to Levi but did not bother turning around yet. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” he added. Levi nodded and looked around. The floor was a dirty, white carpet and seemed to expand everywhere. Tacky. Not to mention all the bookcases. They lined the walls of the store while smaller tables with piles of texts littered the floor space. The lighting was shit and made the room seem even smaller than it already was. It was similar to his bedroom, but only if he had real furniture. The ceiling was low and sagged in some places; he could probably touch it if he jumped. Overall, the place was a dingy shack.  

Levi refocused his attention on the man in front of him. He still hadn’t turned around. Rude. Suddenly, a tremble ran through Levi’s legs. He gasped and latched a grip on the corner of the desk. Shit, he had to sit down soon; his legs were not going to cooperate anymore. He’d done too much walking. Sweet pulses of heat raced through his muscles, causing him to carve tiny grooves from his trimmed nails in the wood. He needed a chair. No, he needed to leave. He could come back some other time to do the interview.

“Fascinating,” the other man murmured. “Just amazing what he can do. You could barely tell the difference with how soft it is. Incredible. But,“ he exclaimed and turned, finally facing Levi, “that’s not why you’re here, now is it?” The man’s calm demeanor dropped as he offered a smile. Levi shuddered as the hairs on his neck unfurled. “How can I help you?”

He resisted the urge to cast the man a glare. “I came for a job interview.”

“Ah! You must be Levi!” The man leaped up and extended a hand. Levi stared at his hand but kept a firm latch on the desk. So much for a good impression. “Great timing, truly. You can call me Dr. Hanji. I am the owner of this little bookshop but also a professor at Sina University so you may catch me or my other employee in here. Interviews are done upstairs in my office, so if you’d follow me.”

Fuck. If he let go of the desk corner, he would probably fall. But if he didn’t, he’d probably lose the job. Well, his legs were shit anyway; a minute long walk up some stairs wouldn’t damage them more than they already were. “Sure,” he finally grunted and wrenched his hands off the desk. Dr. Hanji smiled and practically glided across the floor to a small opening between two bookcases. Levi limped behind him hurriedly, not eager to be left behind. Sure enough, a carpeted spiral staircase with books and papers wedged into the furthest corners of each step greeted him. He clung to the railing as he followed Dr. Hanji. After only half a spiral, he stepped off, despite the stairs leading higher.

“Oh, don’t worry about up there,” Dr. Hanji laughed as if he could hear Levi’s confusion. “That’s where my other employee works when he finishes up making books. It’s practically his nest.” Levi hummed to acknowledge the statement but still spared one more glance at the door above them. It was quiet. Maybe the other worker wasn’t there today. Another tremor rocked his body and he snapped his jaw shut.

_“MIKA! MIKA!” he sobbed and pounded on the door. No matter how wide he stretched his eyes open, the blackness still swallowed everything from his sight. The chains on his ankles clinked, rattled, and slithered over him like snakes in a pit. He could not escape on his own. He needed help. Mika would help him, like before. Just as he tightened his fist for another onslaught of banging at the door, he heard the locks click as they became undone. Finally, he was going to be freed!  The door swung open but Mika’s worried face did not greet him. Father stood at the entry, pants unbuttoned and sagging with a thick belt in his hand. His eyes shone with untamable fury. “N-no. Wait, I-I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to—!“_

_“What did I tell you about telling ‘em lies of yours, Levi?” he snarled._

Levi gasped and looked around wildly, eyes blown wide. He was finally sitting down on something soft. The blackness was gone. Father was gone. He wasn’t in the closet. He was not chained. He was… Where was he? The bookshop. He quit yesterday. The stupid girl and the letter opener. He needed a job. Fuck, this was his job interview. He focused his eyes in front of him, forcing the brightness to fade from his vision. A dark face with goggle-like glasses came into view along with limp, unkempt russet hair: Dr. Hanji. “Sorry,” Levi managed to mutter. “This happens sometimes if I stand for too long.” Lies. “Can we just continue with the interview?”

“Uh, do you need a minute to compose yourself?” Dr. Hanji offered, eyebrows practically resting in his hairline.

_Yes._ “No, I’m fine. Maybe just some water,” Levi replied and forced himself to roll onto his knees. Dr. Hanji extended his hand again but this time, Levi grasped it gratefully. His hand was nauseatingly moist and warm, probably a breeding ground for all sorts of germs and bacteria. Truly revolting.

“Alright, I have some in my office. Easy now,” he warned as Levi slowly rose to his feet. “One step at a time. It’s just behind that door near the red bookcase.” Levi barely noticed anything about the upper room as he crossed it. His attention was stuck on his feet, forcing them to move one step at a time. Dr. Hanji was not exaggerating about how near his office was. Less than a minute after they started, Levi sat comfortably in a cold metal folding chair with a glass of water in his hand. The office was poorly lit and reeked of old, rotting papers. Mrs. Church would have had a conniption had she seen its musty state. Papers upon papers were piled high on a mahogany desk coated with a thin layer of dust. Of what was visible from the walls, they were covered in a dirty, peeling, yellow wallpaper in dire need of being washed or just replaced. Tall wooden bookshelves took up the majority of space around the desk, encasing it like a small shrine. At the heart of the mess, Dr. Hanji sat with his hands folded and resting on the desktop. “So, you want to just ignore what happened and skip along to the interview?”

“Preferably, yes.” Levi reached into his jacket to pull out a now creased version of his résumé and slid it across the desk, disturbing the fine layer of dust. 

“Hmm, alright let me see here,” Dr. Hanji mumbled to himself. Levi stared at the wrinkled, yellow button-down shirt he wore with distaste. It was almost as disgusting as the wallpaper, if not more so. The lab coat hanging over his broad shoulders seemed off-white in the new lighting though he debated whether the coat itself was actually off-white or just had not been washed in a long time. Based on his first impression, he would not be surprised if it was the latter. The doctor brushed back a few rogue strands of his lengthy, oily, russet hair as he placed Levi’s résumé down and finally relaxed in his plush, leather chair.

“Well, well, well, well, Mr. Ackerman you seem to have quite a lot of experience, no? Just off a glance, there’s quite a lot of department changes you have listed here. Any particular reason why?”

Levi straightened up just slightly in his chair, taking a sip of water and slipping back into his façade. “I felt like a change of scenery was due.”

“17 times?”

“Well sir, it looks as if you read my resume more closely than a glance then,” Levi replied with a breath of false laughter. Dr. Hanji seemed to like that. He must have really liked it since only a moment later, he laughed loudly and slapped his desk for emphasis. Maybe this interview wasn’t shot to hell after all.

“I suppose! I suppose I did! Now,” his laughter ceased almost as abruptly as it began and he leveled Levi with an accusatory glare. “Why is it that you resigned from the Rose Tech Public Relations branch to work here? The workload and skillsets are completely different, not to mention it looks like you’ve worked there for eleven years.”

“I had some personal reasons.” _That and the fact that if I hadn’t resigned I would have been fired for slicing my co-worker’s damn hand._

“What about the people? Did you get on fine with them? Were there issues?” Dr. Hanji’s rapid-fire questions were starting to grate on his already fried nerves.

“The people were good, they were fine. I had no issues with them.” Lies. The only person he could tolerate by the end of his employment at Rose Tech was Nanaba and even _that_ was a stretch. Dr. Hanji opened his mouth, probably to shoot more questions at Levi, but halted as his office door creaked open.

“Hey, Bossman! I got this one book to rebind but I think we ran out of glue—oh, sorry! I didn’t realize you had a client in here.” Levi froze in his seat as memories washed over him. A warm lingering touch, a gentle breeze-like laugh, hot pancakes on winter mornings. It was like coming home after being away for so damn long and the journey back was literal hell on earth. It reminded him of his older sister’s warm hugs and the beautiful slick feeling of red painting his hands. That voice could put him to sleep with the sense of ease it brought him.

And that’s exactly why every guard went up when he heard it. His hands tightened into fists and his teeth clenched, hardening his jawline. _It’s all bullshit. Everything he says is bullshit_ , he thought. Suppressing a roll of his eyes, Levi looked to his left.

Dark teal eyes still sparkled with lively mirth and playful mischief as they peeked inside the office. They went with a shaggy rag of black hair that looked like it would cover his eyes and ears if his bangs were not held back by a gray beanie. Bronze skin glowed even in the dim light and Levi already knew from experience it’d be pliable under his fingers. He was the only person Levi had ever chosen to be with for more than a month.  

Even after five years, Levi never could force himself to forget Eren Jaeger.

“Ah, don’t mind, don’t mind! It is not a client, he’s a new employee,” Dr. Hanji chattered happily. “Why not come and introduce yourself!” _Fuck no,_ Levi thought.

“Sure!” Eren stepped into the office and got a full look at him. His eyes widened slightly and soft, plump lips parted enough for a puff of air to pass through. His lips twitched before drawing back to reveal his award-winning smile. The piece of shit hadn’t changed. “Well, hello again Levi.”

“Eren,” Levi curtly answered.

“Oh, you two already know each other?” Dr. Hanji exclaimed and clapped his hands.

“Yeah, Levi and I were good friends once upon a time,” Eren answered with a small smile.

“That’s an understatement,” Levi scoffed under his breath. Somehow, Eren heard him. He turned his head at the comment and smirked.

“Wow! What a coincidence! Now you guys can go catch up!” Dr. Hanji laughed as he pushed his glasses up into his matted hair.

“What about his interview?” Eren quipped.

“Oh, oh, oh! I forgot about that! Well considering he’s the only one who’s shown interest in our ad, I already knew he was going to get the job. I have to get going for a class in the evening so I’ll just let you sort out his schedule and responsibilities,” Dr. Hanji smiled.

“Wait, what?” Levi quickly interjected. “I never accepted the position. I have other—“

“Levi,” Dr. Hanji interrupted with a smile. “With a reputation like yours, we both know you have little chance getting anywhere else to hire you in Shiganshina. I also know that the people who work here don’t do it because they care about books.” The doctor lessened his smile slightly as he stared into Levi’s eyes. Levi forced himself not to cower under the man’s intensity; it was as if he saw his past, present, and future and knew the truth about his life’s story. “I’m not stupid. You need a distraction and you’re lucky I’ll give it to you; I suggest you take the offer.”  

The room was getting quite warm. But maybe it was just his face. Levi scowled and crossed his arms, glaring at nothing really in particular. He was lying to himself if he thought he could argue with Dr. Hanji’s point. His leg spasmed slightly.  “…Fine,” he acquiesced.

“Great,” Dr. Hanji beamed. “Now, carry on. Sina is a two-hour trip and I have a class in three.” Levi stood, glare unrelenting, and walked out of the suffocating office, minding each step he took. He was no longer light-headed nor trembling; it seemed his little…episode had passed.

Eren vanished. The tall asshat was nowhere in sight and thanks to the carpet, he couldn’t hear him walking either. Well, that was just fine with him. Now Levi could go home and try to forget the day’s events. A sudden slap on his shoulder said otherwise.

“There you are, Levi!” Eren shouted, ignoring Levi’s gasp and flinch. “Let’s go sort out your schedule. It’s actually downstairs so afterward we can go out for something and close shop really quick,” Eren rambled. He hadn’t changed in the slightest, rattling off directions or stories too fast for Levi to understand like a damn teenager all because he was too excited. As they approached the spiral staircase, Levi noticed Eren duck slightly before stepping on the first step. Maybe he grew a few inches taller. It was plausible; five years was a long time. But something else was bothering him. How was he acting like this? Hell, he knew that in reality, if Eren hadn’t ruined it, he probably would have at one point so why the fuck was Eren just bouncing down the steps in front of him, pretending their furthest encounter had only been in mere friendship? It was stupid to pretend nothing happened between them, and Eren was the furthest thing from stupid. He was a calculated menace; everything he did was for a reason.

Everything.

 “Had I known you were being interviewed,” Eren chuckled, “I would have cleaned Dr. Hanji’s room for you.” Cold numbed every muscle inside Levi. He grabbed the collar of Eren’s shirt and slammed him against the peeling wallpaper in the center of the stairwell, far enough down from Dr. Hanji’s possibly probing eyes while still too high for any curious customers to see.

“What kind of fucking game are you playing with me?” Levi growled. Eren’s eyes gleamed for a second before he blinked and it disappeared.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Levi,” Eren stammered slightly through his teeth.

“Don’t give me bullshit, Eren.” Levi dug his forearm into Eren’s throat; maybe now he’d get that he was being serious. “What are you doing? More specifically, what are you doing _here,_ in Shiganshina _?_ ”

“I swear I’m not doing anything other than working. I moved here to intern with Dr. Hanji about a year ago from Sina University. At first, I had to move into my father’s old house here and boy did that take a long time. It ended up being too far a commute so I rented the apartment attached to this place.” The amusement was gone from Eren’s facial expression but Levi could still find it, buried deep within his eyes.

“And you didn’t bother telling me you came back?” Eren averted his eyes at Levi’s words. “I don’t care that you just up and left. Hell, I don’t care you left, period. I’m just mad I ever gave a piece of shit my time.”

“Are you now?” His voice sounded different to Levi. Harder. Thicker. More like a rumble.  

Levi leaned closer, still pushing his elbow further into Eren’s windpipe. “Yes.”

“You son of a bitch,” Eren huffed, his joking lilt audible again. “Yes, I left you. I wanted to graduate from Sina and I knew you wouldn’t follow me so I went alone. I’m glad I was important enough to you that I only wounded your goddamn pride,” he finished heatedly. The lilt was no longer there. He was not joking earlier, Levi realized; he was being sarcastic. Bright teal eyes turned back to meet his. They always managed to throw him off. “And believe me, I’m not just some guy.” Levi furrowed his brow; what the hell did _that_ mean? Heat rose to paint Eren’s face but he did not look away. “I want to be _your_ guy, you know? And I, uh… I want you to be mine,” he finished quietly.

Levi’s answer was immediate. “No.” He would not fall down that particular rabbit hole again.

“Why not? Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I came back! It’s been five years; I didn’t think you would want to see me,” Eren whined, leaning forward slightly. His nose was freckled now. Idiot probably stayed out in the sun too much.  

“Well, congratulations, you were right on one thing—I didn’t want to see you and I certainly do not want to date you. As for why not, it’s because you are a goddamn, manipulative fuck.” Eren grinned and rolled his eyes lethargically.

“You’re still so overdramatic.” Eren reached up to grab Levi’s small wrist. His grip was firm and tight; he must go to the gym more now. Levi did not resist as Eren slowly pulled his forearm away from his throat and stood taller. “Can I at least take you out to eat?”

“Why?”

“To catch up,” Eren shrugged.  

“We already caught up.”

“No, you bitched at me. Let’s go; I’m hungry.” Eren moved his grip to Levi’s hand and teased his knuckles with feather-light strokes.

“Can you attempt to behave yourself, you heathen?” Levi snapped, trying and failing at yanking his hand out of Eren’s tight grasp. “I’m not holding your fucking hand.” His warning fell on deaf ears as Eren merely tightened his grip on Levi and dragged him down the rest of the stairs and towards the store door.

“I’m in the mood for Chipotle. You?”  

“I’m not hungry,” Levi muttered as he tried to become a deadweight for Eren to pull. It did not work.

 “Oh, that’s nonsense. Cheer up Levi, this will be fun!”

-!@#$-

Levi leaned against his front door the moment he closed it. His day was so draining. Eren’s seemingly never expendable reserves of energy kept him out and about until… He fumbled his phone out of his jacket pocket and glanced at the time: 7:00 P.M. His interview had been at 1:30. Fuck Eren.

Slowly, Levi slid down the door, eyes closed and feeling the exhaustion hitting him hard. At least he wouldn't have to work until Thursday. As he sat, he felt something thicker than usual scrape against his ass. Levi shot back up, grabbing the package as well. It was another letter without a return address and delivered through his door from his new, dearly beloved friend. Levi slid his finger under and across the top of the folded flap and carefully pulled out the contents. There was a single letter, another envelope, a blank paper, and a single picture. He grabbed the page with writing on it and began to read through the familiar font of a typewriter.

 

Dearest Levi,

 

Congratulations on your newest job. However, I am growing bored and I want to make this fun, for myself at the very least.

 

I will slaughter a bus full of civilians or make your friend in the picture my new puppet. You can choose who to save. If you would rather sacrifice innocent lives for your friend, go ahead. If you want to be noble and sacrifice your friend for other selfish people, go ahead.

 

Write your choice on the blank paper then go to the house with the caved-in roof at the end of your street tomorrow night at 10 P.M. Slip the envelope with your answer under the front door.

 

Don’t disappoint me.

 

Levi tossed the paper to the side as he searched for the picture he just put down. _Please not him, not Eren…_ He nimbly caught the edge of the smooth photo paper and turned it around. He was greeted by a picture taken through a window. Indeed the person was his friend. Blond hair neatly cut and layered came to the nape of his neck. Short bangs framed his face as he cuddled next to his longtime boyfriend, Mike, on their little couch. He knew that couch. It was pretty soft. He crashed there when he first moved to this hellhole.

“ _I’ll always be here if you need anything, okay Levi? Mikasa left a good word about you so whenever you need a job, just come find me at Rose Tech in Shiganshina. My name is—“_

Nanaba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no TWs for this chapter.

Chapter 6  

              Armin stared at the building he hoped would become his last headquarters before his work finally paid off. It was not very impressive. The Shiganshina branch was a square, single-story building. It looked less like an official government building and more like a small house, busted porch and all. Weather-worn bricks with their flaking grey paint greeted Armin. In rusted brass, “SHIGANSHINA POLICE DEPARTMENT” shone duly, a faded memory of former times. The stoop was a pitifully lopsided block of cement that looked like it could serve as both a step and a ramp. The windows were barred but he was pretty sure one solid kick would free any escapee. And yet, four years of strenuous research, clue picking, and gathering of first-hand accounts all led him here. Armin closed his eyes and exhaled. He was just overthinking and nervous. There had to be more to the little building; it was just a bad first impression.

              Letting out another deep breath and shaking his arms out, Armin walked into the building. A beat-up silver desk sat in front of a glass divider, abandoned. Armin’s brow twitched. Maybe the secretary was on a break? He spared a glance through the divider; a short hall opened into a larger room just a few feet away. Armin checked his watch; his appointment was in ten minutes. Well, fuck procedure. He sidestepped the empty desk and walked around the glass divider. Framed newspaper clippings lined the tiny hall. The ink was no longer the bold black but a soft faded gray. And for good reason, considering each clipping was from articles written in the 1990s.

The larger room seemed no better than the secretary’s desk; both practically abandoned. Two rooms with large windows set against the back wall but thick blinds were only drawn down one. A long table expanded over the majority of the room while a coffee machine sat on a tiny counter beside a small couch: the break room. The floor space was open but organized by large dividers, almost as if the intent was for large-scale cubicles. The Commander seemed to have an affinity for intense organization. A makeshift split down the center created a clear path towards the shuttered office in the rear.  A pair of metal doors which appeared to have seen their own fair share of hardships stood off to the left of the break room. What was through them? Holding cells? Another section? A basement? Maybe this was actually a two-story building. His eyes lingered briefly but Armin redirected his attention. He only counted three desks he could see. At least people sat at most of these desks. Of the three, one was a woman; she had blonde hair nearly identical to his own, tied in a tight but messy bun and leaving nearly half her out to cover her right eye. The other was a tall brunet with drooping eyes; he seemed a few minutes from falling asleep, even if he drank the six cups of coffee that littered his desk. The third officer was nowhere to be found but had several thick folders on their desk.

              Armin adjusted his slim tie and walked forward to greet the pair. Only the woman bothered to acknowledge his existence with a glance.

              “To file a complaint, please come ‘tween noon an’ seven P.M. What d’you need?” she drawled, Shiganshinian accent prominent and proud in the way she nearly slurred her words together. She must have been born and raised here. But then, why would she join _this_ police force? Why not join TPD in the city? Why stay here in these godawful slums no one even pretended to care about? Armin shoved the myriad of questions to the back of his mind; it wouldn’t be wise to start making assumptions about this woman, especially if she could become his co-worker.

              “Ah, I called a few days ago to meet with Commander Erwin Smith? I was told this is where I could find him?” The woman raised an eyebrow and brushed her long bangs away from her face to tuck them behind her ear.

              “Who wants ’im? I can tell you’re not from ’ere.” She leaned back in her chair and fixed him a glare over folded arms. Her proud nose was raised in suspicion.

              “Uh, I’m Crime Analyst Armin Arlet, coming in from the heart of Trost. I called earlier in the week about this,” he trailed. “So, uh, is the Commander in today?” The woman’s glare just deepened.

              “Our Commander is a busy man. Make your business brief,” she ordered. The corner of Armin’s lip twitched as he fought the urge to smile.

              “Of course.”

              “Bertolt!” she barked. The other officer started in his chair, banging his knee against the desk’s underside, and looked around. She turned to face him and rolled her eyes at his wrinkled clothes and bloodshot eyes. “Go bring ’his guy to Commander Smith. Name’s Armin Arlet. An’ sleep in the break room, not your desk.” Bertolt dropped his head in agreement and rubbed his eyes to try and look like he wasn’t sleeping on the job.

              “His office,” Bertolt yawned, “is over here.” Armin followed the lanky man as he meandered back to the large office. The closer they got, the more the butterflies fluttered about Armin’s gut. He had nothing to be nervous about if the current state of the force was anything to go by. And with his résumé, a job was practically secured. Armin jolted as Bertolt rapped against the glass door. “Mr. Armin Arlet is here to see you, Commander.” Whether he chose not to wait for an answer or Armin just could not hear the reply, he suddenly found himself ushered inside. This office spoke volumes compared to the outer desks.

              A lone desk was crowded with stacks upon stacks upon stacks of loose papers, papers shoved in folders, and some folders shoved in binders. The folders were bulging and tearing along their spines as they tried and failed to retain each document. In the center of the mess sat a man hunched over, balancing a phone receiver between his left shoulder and ear while frantically scrawling words across a lined notepad. He had yet to notice Armin but spoke softly, as if he did not want anyone overhearing. The rapid buzz of the pen scratching the paper was a pleasant white noise as Armin continued to look around. Rusting filing cabinets lined most of the walls, some with their drawers open. The lone spot lacking a cabinet was filled by a humming printer. Above it, a small plaque hung lopsidedly on the wall. Its once golden gleam was muted thanks to a thick layer of dust. Armin managed to decipher the few bolded words: **1996 Best Municipal Police Force**.

              “No,” a deep voice crisply rang. “Commissioner Rico, you can tell the Chief I said to back off. Shiganshina has a TPD branch for a reason and to eliminate it would be the end of this borough.” The commander slammed his pen against the desktop. “We’re plugging away on the case. We’ll have a lead by tomorrow. Yes...I guarantee it. I’d stake my job on it.” Armin sharply inhaled. Whatever the commander was discussing was important. Much too important for just some a crime analyst. He turned to the commander to excuse himself but paused.

The man was staring at him.

Electric blue eyes met his own unwaveringly. The commander’s thick yet defined eyebrows were knit together as a frown tugged at his lips. Blonde hair was neatly combed back but straggles of a beard kissed his sharp jawline. Armin could see the flecks of gray encroaching on the edges of his temples and the wrinkle lines beginning to dominate his forehead.

“My duties call me, Commissioner. We’ll be in touch,” the commander murmured into the phone and clicked it into the receiver. “Now then, Mr. Arlet. Please, have a seat,” Commander Smith sighed while pointing to the single green, broken, leathered chair. Armin obeyed without hesitation. “I am Erwin Smith, Commander of the Shiganshina Police Force. Now, I must ask, why you are here? What brings you to Shiganshina?” _More than you could imagine,_ Armin thought. But the commander did not need to know that. Instead, Armin merely interlocked his fingers over his crossed knee and began to answer.

              “I would like a job here. The Chief, Deputy Chief, and Commissioners at Trost do not care about the people of Shiganshina; that’s irrefutable. Frankly, I don’t want to work with them when my skills could be more useful here.”

“Your skills,” Commander Smith hummed.

“Yes, sir. I am a crime analyst and I’ve worked with the criminal investigators under Commissioner Rico’s command. I’ve read about the string of murders going on here by a serial killer whose been dubbed B.K.S.; I want to help crack that case.” Erwin inhaled sharply at the name of the serial killer and closed his eyes, folded hands resting on the desk coming undone.

              “While your résumé is impressive, Mr. Arlet, there is simply no room for you here,“ Commander Smith sighed.

              Armin froze. He could feel his body sag into the chair but his mind ground to a halt. He had to get this job; everything depended on him getting this job. How could the commander say no to him? He was a flawless applicant. “Sir, please reconsider. I’ve read a lot about the Shiganshina Force, good things and bad. I know Chief Dawk wants to cut funding to the branch, so I’d accept minimum wage without overtime for my work. But please, hire me!”

The commander narrowed his eyes. “Why do you want this job so bad? I’ve checked your record, Mr. Arlet. You have no family here, nor have you ever lived here. No one wants to leave a cushy life in the heart of Trost and a well-paying job for this slum, not even charity workers. What makes you different? Why do you need this job so badly?”

Armin wrung his hands. Someone coined the expression the truth will set you free. Armin was pretty sure the truth would free him of this potential job. But there was always an off-chance... “I-I’m looking for someone. My trail led me to Shiganshina but with this murderer on the loose, I have to find them before they become a target.”

The commander grinned and shook his head. “So, you lied about caring for Shiganshina. You only want this job to manipulate our resources and find your friend.” _Fuck, when he put it like that he sounded awful._  Armin held Commander Smith’s eyes but said nothing. “Look, not that your story warmed my heart or anything, but my officiers can use the help of a crime analyst. We need to find a lead before six A.M. tomorrow. Do you think you could do that?”

              “Yes,” Armin agreed.

              “Good. I’ll offer you this proposition,” the commander declared. “You find me a good lead tonight, I’ll hire you and let you use our materials to find your lost person. You’ll get minimum wage with partial overtime.”

              “You won’t regret this, sir!” Armin sighed. 

              "You'd best make sure I don't.” Commander Smith lifted up a thick manila folder and tossed it onto Armin’s lap. “Get to work.”

-!@#$%-

Armin had the file memorized by sunset but he still wafted through the papers. Commander Smith set his temporary desk up across the main aisle, opposite from Annie and Bertolt. If he did it in effort to maximize his performance, he needn’t have worried; Bertolt finally passed out nearly four hours ago and Annie was as welcoming as a dried cactus. Not to mention, they both left for the day as soon as he got to work.

He covered his desk with the contents of the file, taking each paper out and separating them by victim. The victim who debuted the killer was a 41 year old female. Lab tests and dental records confirmed that her name was Anka Rheinberger, a single mother of two children. Her corpse was presented as a homeless beggar near a bus stop and was discovered by a male runner around 5 A.M.

              The second victim was Hannah Diamant, age 67. She too was killed by B.K.S.’s signature method of skinning and cutting through joints before being sewn back together and maneuvered like a puppet. She was a widowed mother of just one child, a son. According to the coroner, traces of heroin and other substances lingered in her system. Her corpse was presented as a statue in the nearby library, posed to remind people to drop their books in the book drop chute. She was found by the morning librarian.

The third victim was much younger, a 23 year old woman named Anna Dritz. She left no children behind but was engaged. Her corpse was presented as a waitress inside a popular coffee shop near the edge of Shiganshina and East Rose.

On a surface level, the three women had nothing in common except being mostly healthy in their medical records. Their ages spanned from young adult to elderly. At the very least, there was not enough evidence to support the idea that B.K.S. did not murder children. Armin glared at the images and swallowed hard. How could the people in Shiganshina just deal with this? How shitty were their lives to be able to accept this? And how could someone perform such inhumane acts on their own kind? On innocence?

Armin shook his head to try and regain his focus. If there were not any obvious or slightly hidden relations, then he would have to look deeper. He needed to see the interviews conducted with these families; maybe there was a similarity there. He grabbed a Post-it pad and began to jot down each record he would need to read thoroughly: criminal records, school transcripts, family interviews, and tax returns. Looking into the small details hadn’t failed him yet; after all, that’s how he caught a break in his search for–

“Arlet!” He jumped at the sudden call and looked towards his summoning. It was Commander Smith. He wore a black trench coat and carried a matching briefcase; he was going home. “You seemed pretty enthralled in your work, there. Do you want to stay to finish it or go to wherever you are staying?”

“Uh, actually, I was hoping I could stay but where are the nightshift employees?”

“There are no nightshift employees. We don’t have enough manpower to run the Force at night and at full-strength during the day. But I don’t want you alone here yet,” Erwin admitted. He furrowed his brows. “Do you have anything worth following?”

“Oh,” Armin sighed. “Well, I’ll be fine, sir. I have a few trails I want to follow; I think I may find a connection to them all based on the interviews we did with the family. I’ll check those out first then head home”. Commander Smith nodded and pointed his chin in the direction of the metal double-doors by the break room.  

“The interviews will be down there with other confidential information. I’ll let you stay but you must keep the building locked up as you’re working. The keys are on my desk. The bus stops running here after 1 A.M. so if you’re here past then, just sleep in the break room. Walking back will be too dangerous,” Commander Smith informed him.

“Oh that’s fine,” Armin replied. “I’ll just catch another one—“

“There are no other buses that run here. Just stay in the break room.”   

Armin’s eye widened a fraction. “Yes sir.”

“Sleep well.” With that, the commander turned and left the office, leaving Armin alone in the building. His eyes scanned the pages of information again but his ears were concentrated elsewhere. There was still no sound of a car leaving and Commander Smith just told him how dangerous the streets at night were; he was most likely being watched. He forced his creeping shoulders down. If the commander was watching him, he needed to appear calm. He was supposed to be engrossed in his work. There was nothing to be nervous about a few pictures and autopsy reports he already read nearly a hundred times. Regardless, he could not help his heart launching into his throat as the sound of a car start up and tires crunching gravel blared from outside. His pulse roared in his ears but he did not have the luxury of time to think about it. Without so much a sound, Armin crept around his desk and slinked to the commander’s office to grab the keys. It sat in the center of the desk. Armin snatched the keyring off the now tidied desk and left. He wasn’t even an official employee yet; snooping around the commander’s office would only lead to being fired.

Armin breathed out a heavy sigh as he turned the lock. He was alone and safe; now, he could get back to work. He turned on his heel and booked it to the metal doors. Something about the bus was bugging him. The doors led to a small flight of stairs to the basement. As Armin crept down, he wrinkled his nose as the smell of weed filled the air. At the base of the stairs, two more doors greeted him. One with a small plaque calling it Records; the other with a plaque calling it Narcotics. So much for a clean Narcotics Department.

Armin opened the records room and flipped on the light switch. On an empty desk to his right, sat a stack of papers. Armin wafted through the first pages and like Erwin said, there were interviews. He skimmed through them, searching for anything about buses or bus stops. The first victim, Anka Rheinberger, had been found near a bus stop but her interview didn’t say anything about taking the bus. The second victim had traces of drugs in her system and was elderly. Armin doubted she would still be driving, especially if her son was old enough to work. Armin narrowed his eyes as he read the interview with the second victim’s son; he said she took the bus every day to go to the library. She was a part-time librarian and dealer there. Now for the third victim. She was only 23, the youngest of them all. According to her fiancée, she took the bus to her job since it was the coffee shop at the boarder of Shiganshina and East Rose.

There was his lead. All three of the victims took the same bus. He would need to get a list of bus drivers for the route to Shiganshina. The killer could be the bus driver. But wait, he’d also need to get a list of people who rode the bus. Any one of them could be the next victim. Armin smiled and tided the interview papers. It was only one lead but still, a lead was a lead. He would get his job here and continue his search! And speaking of which…

Armin turned to face the numerous filing cabinets. They were alphabetically organized by last names. He began to walk towards the last cabinet, ‘Z’. All his careful research and tracking led him here, to this crummy slum. In the past two years, the trail became slightly more tangible. He was able to find a confirmed document listing him as a graduate from Sina University about two years ago. While it was not much of a lead, Armin hadn't cared. He stayed late at the office, much like he was currently doing, researching anything and everything that could possibly connect. And now, he found the most tangible lead he could have hoped for: a person. A professor from Sina, to be more specific. Armin bit back a yawn as he struggled to keep his focus. He wasn’t going to leave until he found the records on Hanji Zoë. If anyone could help him, it was that professor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: graphic descriptions of physical child abuse, a brief, non-explicit account of molestation, LOTS of blood, mentions of domestic violence, graphic description of a murder/bodily harm (specifically to the abdomen and eyes), and graphic description of vomiting.
> 
> Okay! So I realize that's a lot to put in one chapter so here's the deal. The bulk of these triggers are in the dream/flashback. The entirety of the dream/flashback is in italics. If you don't want to read any of it, I have a summary in the endnotes. Within the italics, what I feel are the most disturbing triggers (i.e. the first two listed and domestic violence) occur in the beginning; the section with these triggers are indicated by three asterisks, ***, at its start and end. 
> 
> That being said, I feel like I should stress these again: READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION! I DO NOT CONDONE/SUPPORT ANY OF THESE ACTIONS WHATSOEVER. This is a dark fic and it will have dark content. Please heed these warnings.

Chapter 7

Levi came home late Thursday night. After turning the deadbolt and locking the door handle, he strolled directly towards the fridge: he needed to fucking eat something. A somewhat chilly fridge greeted him, as did the scent of rancid cheese.  The pot of questionable soup must’ve finally gone bad. Looks like bargain brand canned soup would be dinner again, big surprise there. As he began prying the lid off, his eyes fell on the crumpled letter sitting innocently on the countertop. His stomach churned.

“Fuck off,” he muttered as he placed the soup bowl inside the microwave and slammed the door harder than needed. “It was a fucking bluff; I’m not going to be a puppet.”  _No one’s going to die unless I want them to._ The microwave timer rang but Levi made no movement to cease it. He didn’t want anyone to die. Right? At least, not anymore. The only people he wanted to die…that was all a long time ago. They were all gone and he was different. He changed and no fucking letter would make him go back. He was fine now. Yeah, he was fine.

Levi swung the microwave door open and pulled out the soup. The fucking thing was barely heated but what else was new? Levi rolled his eyes as he sat down on his couch, eating the soup as he browsed his phone. This was his life; his pathetically boring and lonely life. This was what he did and would do every day until he died in this miserable town: wake-up, go to work, work, come home, eat shitty canned soup, shower, and go to sleep. But even now, working at the bookshop didn’t seem to welcome much of anything new. He was just a glorified cashier who occasionally dusted the shelves and arranged the books on them. Originally, he planned to avoid Eren but as it turned out, he mainly kept to his workshop upstairs. The last thing he wanted was to have to deal with Eren every day. The work was simple, boring in most ways, but it put food on his shitty, uneven table. His work routine only needed a few more shifts before it would become mindless busy work where he simply went through the motions. Lately, it seemed like that was all he was doing.

Levi placed his soup bowl on the cushion beside him and let his eyes close. He was fucking tired. The couch would suffice for the night. Anything else that he needed to do could wait until tomorrow. For now, he only wanted the sweet embrace of sleep.

-!@#$%^-

              *** _Each strike resonated throughout the room. They came in quick succession, sometimes as many as ten consecutive whips before a slight pause. Most times it was only five whips at once. Levi flinched as the belt lashed at his skin again but did not utter a sound. Crying out led to more whips. Actual tears led to little to no meals for a week. Each was impossible, but he knew this was the punishment his father preferred. Levi flinched at the next lash, tearing into his neck’s nape. His useless legs twitched; they still burned but his bloodied back overtook his senses._

_He would take it. His tiny body would endure each blow, would turn each welt into parallel scars, reminders of how Father treated him and would eventually give him gifts to make him stronger. He was used to the whippings now. His father wanted complete dominance over him, his older sister, and his mother. He wanted to teach them. Make them “better.”_

_Fuck him for making him “better.”_

_But Levi would bid his time, count each blow like a good boy and wait until he was strong enough to turn around and grab the belt from his father, listen to his pitiful pleas of mercy, then laugh and declare he would receive 50 more for lying. Wait, what? Why… He was getting too warm. But why…why wouldn’t he want to do it? Want to whip Father until he was little more than a lifeless sack of bloody meat? Shackle and beat his legs while he was at it. It would feel so good. He wouldn't get hurt anymore. Levi grinned. He smiled to himself as Father whipped him harder, teeth finally tearing into lips as tears blurred his vision. The scent of copper began to waft in the air. It was going to come, that day. He wanted it, needed it._

_The door swung open. The room went cold. Oh no. Levi’s smile instantly disintegrated. Goosebumps flooded his arms. Father hated how being interrupted. He tried to turn his head to see the intruder but the restraints he was under left no room for him to move. But he did not need to move once the yelling started. Mother. She was looking for him. She was yelling at their father now. Her voice sounded strong and clear. Mika used to tell him stories of Mother with a sharp voice. If they were true then Mother must've been sober for once. She was shouting but what was she saying? What was he saying? Everything was loud but muffled like his ears were stuffed with cotton. He didn't need to wonder; the cotton could not mask their voices once the screaming began._

_"You can’t do this to her!” Mother shrieked._

_“He has to learn! They both do! All they do is lie, just like Charles. My most trusted man, my partner… if he can lie to my face, so can my children and I’m not allowing it. And he sold me out just to get my position—“_

_“You know that wasn’t the case,” she interrupted but Father plowed on, ignoring her entirely._

_“Saying I was fucking prostitutes, the pervert. It’s not true! So these kids need to learn, they can’t say whatever they fucking want. They can’t lie. Can’t do it to themselves or anyone else. And this little shit,” Father sneered with another lash to Levi’s back, “is the fucking king of lying. Lying about being strong, the fucking weakling. Lying about wanting to go into the force, lying about being hungry, and he better hope to God he’s lying about not giving a shit about his family.”_

_“Don’t you hurt my baby girls! They're only ten and fifteen.” Mother shouted. "For God's sake, who are you trying to fool? They can't fight back. You're clearly in charge!" Levi’s ears perked at the sound of another lash but it wasn’t inflicted on him. “Fuck you!” Mother screamed._

_“Shut the hell up! They must get this from you. Quit lying to yourself about Levi! He’s a boy! You didn’t get another girl and no amount of brandy is going to change that!”_

_“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I fucking know that! I see it every time I look at him! I didn’t want him!”_

_Levi just wanted to cover his ears; he wanted to be unchained and able to cover his ears. He wanted to go hide in the closet where Father could not reach him. He wanted to go outside to the sidewalk with his big sister and try to escape the violence that surely was to follow now that the whole family had barged in on this scene._

_A soft hand ripped Levi out of his thoughts. He flinched violently although he recognized it. His sister leaned close to his left ear, murmuring assurances as her fingers trailed down lower…and lower… They slipped around his waist and hesitated before dipping just under the elastic band of his pants. What was she doing? She had to stop! Mika wouldn't...she wouldn't! He did not want it. But his mouth suddenly felt tight. He couldn't move his lips. His body was bound in place; he could not resist. As if she was shocked, Mika yanked her hand out and met his eyes. Her usual brown eye color was dark and muted. Shame. Water welled up in them before she rested her head on the crown of his, thick tears streaming from her eyes. They dropped onto him, salt stinging the open wounds on his back. Her crying got louder, whimpering she never meant to. Mother and Father were still screaming at each other in the background still, each word becoming fuzzy as his sister’s words grew louder, the ever-present waterfalls of apologies and blaming of their father. A smack resonated through the room followed by a shrill shriek. Father must have begun beating Mother.  Too much, too much! Levi closed his eyes; everything would be over soon. The screaming, the hitting, the crying… everything would end soon. He would make everything end soon. He’d do anything to make it stop, anything...***_

_And then, everything stopped. The screaming, the crying, the white waves of pain, the heat—all gone. Silence. The bloody wall vanished from Levi’s fingertips. Instead, he was sitting on the floor, unshackled but thrown on the ground by Father. His back stung thanks to his shirt sticking to the picked corners of the healing scabs on his back. Everything was cold. Father stood over him, red in the face with a vein bulging by his temple and his hands balled into fists. He must've done something. Levi fucked up. Father got pissed but he never saw him this angry before._

_Mika burst into the room and grabbed Levi. She yanked his arm up and tugged him towards the door. His body was heavy again like someone poured sand into his limbs instead of bones or muscles. He could barely move a finger, but somehow, his weak legs pushed him toward to the doorframe. She was yelling something at him but the cotton was firmly planted in his ears. Since he couldn’t hear her, he just stood in place. Her eyes were wide with panic as she tried to shove him out the door. She was wearing her work uniform. Her nametag shone whenever it caught the light._

_Suddenly, she stiffened and turned around, shielding his small body from their raging father. She must’ve said something since Father paused, lips quivering. Not for long. Father lunged forward and grabbed her by the neck. She screeched and scratched his grip but Father slammed her body against the overhead cabinets, making the dishes and knives on the countertop rattle in their places. Levi watched by the door, too transfixed on the violence to run. She kept screaming and clawing at Father’s hand, nails leaving rivulets of blood at each scratch; Father tightened his grip and slammed her head against the cabinets. Her screams cut off._

_Mika's chapped lips were turning blue as her movements slowed. The dishes and knifes rattled closer to the counter’s edge. Levi watched as she suddenly let their father’s hands go and ram her thumbs into his eyes. At once, streams of black gunk and blood poured around her thumbs and down his cheeks. Ouch. Father howled and threw Mikasa into the counter before dropping to his knees, clutching at his ruined eye sockets._

_Levi’s eyes widened as pools of red trickled down the white drawers under the countertop. Mika slid onto the floor, clutching her side and keeping her eyes closed. The drying kitchen knives were wedged into her side up to their hilts. Her neck had a ring of red marks resembling beefy fingers around it. It looked like the scarf he found her. Levi slowly crept forward from his spot at the door to his sister. He was warm. He knelt down and stared at her closed eyelids. They fluttered minutely but did not rise to look at him. She was so weak. All the strength she had, taken away in one swoop. This time, she was the one without a choice. He was not afraid of her. Everything she did to him…despite it all, he was not afraid of her. He was not angry with her. He barely felt anything for her. He barely felt anything for anyone. They were all just…there; people in his life. But they didn’t have to be. He could change that. But did he want to really—yes, he did. He wanted all of them gone. They were all removable. Mika needed to know that, needed to see who he was, what he wanted for once. They all did. He was strong enough, he could do it now. He needed to show them. Without removing his eyes from her rapidly rising and falling chest, he reached a steady hand for an embedded knife._

_Mika tried to grab hold of his arms as he pulled each blade out. They were wedged in her well. Oh well, he just had to wiggle the knives out. More blood squirted out as he worked to remove the knives, slicing away at her flesh as he went. He could hear her cries out to him but ignored her anyway. This wasn’t her choice; it was his. He didn’t want her around anymore. More blood pooled around them as he continued. He didn’t like that. Mother would have him scrubbing on his knees until every drop disappeared. It would take him hours to clean up but it kept coming, pulsing right out of her. It was unending. He grabbed the last knife and opened his eyes to gaze at his big sister. He must have closed them at some point. She had tears and a glimmer in her eyes. Both remained there, even as he slowly dragged the final blade towards her stomach before ripping it out. She croaked out another cry but refused to take her eyes from him. Her lips moved silently, trying to speak but unable to carry a sound. But if these would be her final words, Levi wanted to hear them. He bent over her lips, hearing and feeling her stuttered breaths break against his face._

_“Hah...I'm s-sorry...i-it’s all m-my fault. Y-you’re g-gonna be f-fine,” she huffed. She locked her eyes on him, the gleam within them slowly becoming duller and more tarnished until-_ poof!  _It was gone. Her chest fell once more then stilled. Mika was gone. His sister was not coming back. He forced her to go away. All the strength she had,_ he  _took it away. It was_ his  _decision. The knife clattered to the floor and Levi looked down at his small, still hands. Red. Red. Red. What had he done? He just murdered his sister but he just felt…warm. He did the right thing. Everyone died eventually, anyway. He just wanted her gone a little bit sooner._

_He did this._

_He let her die._

_He killed her._

Levi snapped awake. His soup tumbled to the floor as he pawed at his clothes. His shirt was slick with sweat, as was his body and hair. Mikasa’s slackened face flashed in his mind again. Her pale brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. He needed to go, needed to run. He scrambled off the couch but slipped on his forgotten dinner, practically faceplanting. His elbow nicked an uneven floorboard, tearing off the flushed skin in the process. Levi barely registered it. He pushed himself off the floor and fled to the bathroom. He shoved past the door and just managed to make it over the toilet bowl before yesterday’s can of vegetable soup reintroduced itself to the world. Half-digested chunks of broccoli and beans ran over his tongue as he spat them out; it was as if he was gargling small marbles. He would have to scrap his tongue to get rid of the eclectic textures imprinted on it. His throat burned as he heaved, again and again, waves of nausea racking through his entire body until it was moderately satisfied. At this point, he was certain he completely emptied his stomach of anything he ate last night and probably the night before, but his gut wasn’t so sure. Levi heaved once more, tears clinging to his eyelashes while his muscles tensed and forced a few drops of acrid, yellow stomach acid to drip from his drooling mouth. The putrid scent burnt his nose as he struggled to breathe. Fuck. Fuck everything. He closed his eyes and pried his rigid fingers off the seat before tumbling onto his ass. A shaking hand ran through his damp hair. His teeth chattered as his clammy body shook.

The Ackerman’s. His resented family name. All of them could rot in Hell and he was glad they all did. Still… It had been a long time since he thought about Mikasa like this, about her stupid little nickname, her betrayal, her murder. His first kill. He just…  _carved out_  her side. He took out each blade without thinking twice… and didn’t feel a damn thing. Even now, despite his body’s pathetic trembling on the bathroom floor and the near constant twitching of his hands, Levi felt fine. The dream’s vividness disturbed him but even then, his heartbeat was calming. Mrs. Church had been the same way. Nanaba put a name to what he was lacking years ago but he couldn’t quite remember— Remorse. He didn’t have remorse for his actions. But it was justified; no one else would’ve felt any either. Mikasa had it coming. It only took that one time, that one mistake. She broke his trust; she hurt him. He could hurt her back. Right?

It didn't matter anymore, nothing did. What's done was done. He killed her and watched his family unravel. He wasn't ten anymore. He grew up. Another roll of queasiness lurched him back onto his knees and forced more drops of stomach acid from his mouth. Levi squeezed his eyes shut as he fell back against the cold bathroom wall. He knew the acid would burn his throat as he vomited it out but he barely felt it. He barely felt anything.

-!@#$%^&-

Levi couldn't open his eyes. Streaks of sunlight burned through his eyelids and stabbed his pupils but something was hindering them from opening. Probably hardened eye crud. Gross. His arms were as heavy as lead but somehow, he managed to raise his right hand and attempted to rub his eyes clean. Blue spots danced in his vision as he did so. Groaning slightly and deeming his eyes clean enough for the moment, he forced his eyelids apart. The bleak, water-spotted ceiling came into view but his eyes darted to a larger obtrusion off to his left. A pair of eyes stared down at Levi. They weren't lifeless brown, but a greenish-blue, tamed by a hint of something darker just under the surface. His eyebrows were furrowed tightly but his eyes remained locked on his face. Along with the weird eyes, a wild black mane tickled his face. Ew. Beautifully bronze skin colored the rest of the person and Levi groaned in recognition.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house, Eren?” he rasped. His throat was burning with each stabbing breath he inhaled. Fucking vomit. He needed some water.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t on that bus!” Eren exclaimed. “I called first but you didn’t answer and you always answer, even if it is just to hang up on me. At first, I decided your little game of hide and seek with me was over and I was going to stop by, but then Dr. Hanji told me there was a huge accident and I got worried.”

“What?” Levi groaned. “What happened?”

“B.K.S. This time they slaughtered a bus full of innocent people,” Eren sighed. Levi shot up, his chest exposed and suddenly freezing. What the fuck? The letter was supposed to be a fucking bluff.

“Shit,” Levi whispered. “When did it happen?”

“This morning, around 8,” Eren replied. “But that’s not important right now. Are you okay? I found you passed out in the bathroom.”

“Shut up,” Levi snapped. This was serious. These letters—B.K.S.—was serious. And they were hell-bent on getting  _him_ to participate. Shit, shit,  _shit._ The room was getting warm again. Fuck, this was exactly what the letter said. But if the bus full of people were murdered, then Nanaba should be okay. He’d have to call him later, make sure he was okay. He had to be okay.

“Levi,” Eren snapped, gripping Levi’s arm in the process. “What happened? You look ten seconds from keeling over. Tell me, I just want to take care of you.” Levi didn’t bother trying to wiggle out of Eren’s grasp; he was too tired. He didn’t have the strength to fight him.

“Wow, my heart’s so touched it popped and died,” Levi deadpanned. He looked down at his hands buried in the blanket. First, his dream, now this. If he ever believed in God, now would be a fucking great time to pray. Wait a second … Whose blanket was this? It wasn’t his so—Eren. Levi recoiled from it in disgust, barely acknowledging the tingling in his elbows as he shimmied back on them. Levi glanced quickly at the room, not keen to keep Eren out of sight for long. The man was a snake; he’d slither anywhere in his home if he was not careful enough. Hell, he broke into his house and moved his unconscious body from the bathroom floor to the couch. How did he do that?  _Why_  did he do that? They weren’t together, for fuck’s sake. Eren needed to leave him alone. He wanted to be alone. He was  _fine_ alone! He’d always been alone and he turned out just fine. He didn’t  _need_  anyone.

“Look, I’m fine so you can go now. Tell Dr. Hanji I’m taking a sick day and if he has a problem he can clean the vomit off the carpet when I get there.”

“He called today off for all of us because of the accident, so don’t worry about work. But more importantly, I’m not leaving, Levi,” Eren said, a hint of a tired smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Levi’s stomach rolled at the sight of it.

“I want you to leave, Eren. You don’t get a choice,” Levi repeated, voice stronger and more solid.

“Nope. Quit being so stingy, Levi. I’m not going anywhere. Actually, I’m kind of hungry and I’m sure you are too.” Eren stood and sauntered off to the kitchen. “Is chicken noodle still your soup of preference?”

“Dammit, Eren!” Levi threw back the blanket and stood. Blackness flooded his vision abruptly and he staggered slightly, hands flying out to steady himself. He glared anyway in the last direction he saw Eren. “Will you fucking listen to me? I don’t want you here, and I don’t want you in my life! Get the fuck out!” Color swirled back into Levi’s vision. He blinked twice to clarify the new image. Eren’s eyes were wider than usual. Good. He must’ve taken him off guard. Then they narrowed. Levi swallowed around the newfound lump in his throat. He made a bad decision. This was a bad decision. He was frozen in place; no, he was shackled in place. The chains, the closet, Father—

“Levi,” Eren murmured. Air rushed out of Levi. Things were different. Father was dead. This was Eren. He was safe. “Look, I know that you’re mad at me and I would too if my boyfriend-

“ _Ex_ ,” Levi interrupted.

“Fine. If my ‘ex-boyfriend’ just up and left me for some reason I had no idea about, I’d be pretty pissed. But please, I just want a chance to try and redeem myself.” Eren sighed and ran a hand over his face and through his unkempt hair. He aged ten years when their eyes met again. He looked upset like he had been struggling with their break-up these past few years. Like this moment was really important to him. Sincerity. Eren was sincere about this; if he wasn’t, Levi would’ve caught the stupid glimmer in his eyes. Eren walked back to the couch and plopped onto the browning carpet in front Levi. His usually bright eyes were dulled and dark as he stared at the dirty floor.

“Why the fuck do you think I would give you another chance? You up and left without a trace five goddamn years ago _._ I don’t owe you shit,” Levi spat angrily. Eren winced.

“I fucked up, I know. And I’m not saying you owe me for anything. You don’t and I know you don’t. Listen, I know you’re not going to believe me, but I really, truly didn’t mean to hurt you but I know now that I did.” Levi nodded in affirmation. “But Levi,” Eren looked up, eyes watering and desperate, “even you can’t deny there was something there, right? I mean, you felt  _something_ , right?” Levi frowned.

Levi sighed and sat back down. He really did not want to do this right now. He had to go, had to find Nanaba. “I was never in a relationship before you, Eren. I don’t even understand what you are trying to say.”

“I’m saying at least once, didn’t you feel a moment when you were like ‘holy shit, Eren’s all mine’ or like ‘I want Eren’? Did you feel anything? Do you  _still_  feel anything for me?” Levi paused to think. This was ridiculous. Maybe he did feel like that at one point. Maybe he never did. When was the last time he felt anything? Passion, love, sorrow… they were all just names of feelings. Did he ever actually experience them? Even fear. Did he remember it? By the time he watched his world burn, he didn’t fear his family anymore. But love? Romance? Did he ever feel that? What was it even like? Did he ever experience that, from anyone?

“…I want some chicken noodle soup,” Levi requested quietly. He lowered his eyes to Eren’s Adam’s apple and watched it bob as he swallowed. He didn’t continue to stare as Eren stood without a word to prepare him a bowl. This was all too much. The last thing he needed today was to start looking inward on himself. He just wanted to sleep. He was fucking tired. B.K.S. would probably send another letter soon forcing him to do something since this time he did nothing. These flashbacks were getting entirely too strong. He was still scraping funds together to do anything. Just…FUCK! Levi grabbed Eren’s blanket and buried himself under its soft fabric. He just wanted to disappear.

Eren walked back, resting a fresh, steaming bowl of his favorite soup in front of him. He sat back down on the floor, staring listlessly at the floor, breathing so quietly Levi could scarcely hear any exhaling puffs.  The silence was deafening. Only Levi’s spoon clinking softly as he scraped up spoonful after spoonful penetrated the suffocating atmosphere. Somewhere outside, police sirens wailed. 

Enough. He had enough of everything, of this. Mumbling curses, Levi dropped the spoon into the bowl and placed it on the carpet. He ripped off the blanket and rolled off the couch, tumbling to the floor in front of Eren. The bastard didn’t even look up.

The sound of flesh striking flesh rang out. Levi didn’t even register his hand’s movements until then. Eren yelped and clutched his cheek, leveling Levi with a glare. He ignored it. “Remember the time you came over for the holidays and were surprised I lived in such a shitty house?” Eren nodded stiffly. “Well, I’ll always remember you calling it clean. So there, I don’t know if that’s good enough for you but I’ll always remember you saying that.” Eren rolled his eyes but grinned as he did so. What did that mean? “Well, what about you? You expect me to believe that you ever felt something about me?”

“Remember the time that I got you a bottle of wine and you started yelling at me because you don’t drink?” Levi remembered. It was their second month anniversary at Eren’s house. Eren gave him a bottle of some perfectly aged wine from his cellar. At the mere sight of it, Levi refused to so much as touch the damn thing. He knew all too well the poisoning effects of alcohol. “Well, the minute you said you were going to keep it to sell to some greedy merchant was the minute I knew you were the type of guy I wanted by my side.” Levi chuckled darkly. He never did get his money from the merchant he sold it to. Cheating bastard.

“Go get me some water,” he demanded suddenly; his throat still burned with every word he forced out. Eren rose to his feet and bustled over to the fridge. Levi sighed. He couldn’t keep lying to himself; Eren  _did_ make him feel at ease, even if it was the tiniest, shriveled up, and most boxed off corner of his being. But Eren was not good for him in any way. He always forgot himself when Eren was around. He became a dependent mess. And for what? While that tiny part of him enjoyed his company, the rest of him did not. But really? Was that right? What was he even feeling? What was it? Love? Responsibility? Loyalty? Restlessness? Eren made everything blur together; Levi could never tell which way was up or down when Eren was with him.

Levi turned his gaze to the man in his kitchen. Eren was grumbling about something in his fridge as he searched for water. Why was he torturing himself? His life was at a low point; he just got a new job that was nothing like his old but could easily become just as mundane and brainless if he was honest with himself.  But best of all, a blackmailing serial killer was his pen-pal. It wasn’t like he wasn’t good enough for Eren, but he was…above average. He looked…okay, and he finished high school so he was relatively smart. Smarter already than most of the people on the block he lived on. If there was a microscopic grain of satisfaction, why would he not take it? Why not give in to his indulges every now and then? He deserved this.  

“Hey, I couldn’t find any water so I brought you juice. Speaking of, you really need to put more stuff in your fridge; you barely have anything edible. What have you been living on? Cold, canned food? You’re poor, not a caveman.” Eren scolded as he made his way back to the couch. Levi ignored the comments and tugged the blanket back over his thin body. He had to do it now. He wouldn’t allow himself to back out of this conversation. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath before patting the space next to him and taking the juice from Eren’s outstretched hand. Eren hesitated for only a moment before he heeded Levi’s gesture and sat down next to him. Levi sighed and scooted close enough to lean on Eren’s arm.

“I have conditions,” he finally said. His voice was muffled from the blanket over his mouth. This was it. No turning back. “You can’t just leave like that again.”

“Never.”

“You better be damn good to me, none of that manipulating shit.”

“Promise.”

“You better stick with me at my worst because you haven’t seen it and it’s going to come like a fucking train.”

“Of course. I hope you stay for my worst too; it’ll come.”

Levi turned his head up to look at Eren. Those big ole’ eyes of his were full of mischief again. His stomach flipped but his mouth twitched to allow a smile. Somewhere, a voice in the back of his mind was screaming, clawing at him to stop and run away, but…he did not want to. He wanted to feel something again and Eren would give it to him. He knew he would. Eren had to.

“Well then, I guess I can give you another chance.” Eren sighed happily and tucked Levi’s thin frame under his arm into his muscled side. Soft lips scraped the crown of his head.

“Excellent.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Levi's dream:  
> It is a flashback to when he is ten years old. Levi endured physical abuse that scarred his back by Father. In this instance, Levi is accustomed to these moments and feels nothing but a desire to inflict this pain on Father and eventually kill him. The punishment is interrupted by Mother (who is not Kuchel) and Mikasa, his older sister. It is revealed Father has misplaced motives and inflicts these punishments on his kids because he wants to make them stop lying as to settle a wrong done to him by his former partner on the force. (His former partner accused him of sexual misconduct and caused Father to lose his job and his partner to gain it.) Mother and Father get into a fight that becomes violent as Mother admits she hates Levi because every time she sees him, it reminds her of her failure to have another baby girl. This is also the cause of her alcoholism. As they are screaming at each other, Mika has a moment outside herself and she starts to touch Levi inappropriately like she had been touched by Father but immediately stops and apologizes. Still, this severs any trust Levi has with her. The dream changes abruptly to another intense moment. Mika and Father get into a dispute while she tries to protect Levi from him. It becomes physical and in an attempt to free herself, she jabs her thumbs in Father's eyes. He throws her into the counter covered with drying knives and she becomes impaled with several of them. Levi steps forward and actively decides to remove the blades without regard to her. She bleeds out quickly but in her last words, apologizes to Levi, blames herself, and says he will be fine. Levi feels nothing but warmth after killing her. He acknowledges and accepts he's killed her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> triggers: descriptions of corpses, mentions of body mutilation (it's very vague though) 
> 
> enjoy~

Chapter 8

    It was a slaughterhouse. Delicate bodies strung from metal beams hung like the common pig in a butcher shop. Not even when his father led the force had Commander Erwin Smith seen this level of complete disregard for human life. His furrowed brow scrunched together even more. He still could not understand. How? How could…? It was senseless. Callous. Utterly inhumane. Cruel. Incomprehensible. Cold-blooded. Vicious. Only a monster could do this. Fuck. This was on him. He should have stopped this, should’ve followed the newbie’s lead harder. But he didn’t, and now, too many corpses were hanging from the low hanging pipes.

    Erwin tore his eyes away from the bodies and instead trained them on the growing gathering of reporters standing along the police tape. If B.K.S. hadn’t caught the attention of the papers in both the Roses and Stohess before, he certainly captured it now. The press would no doubt eat this up, painting the department with the wide brush of incompetence and further reducing Shiganshina’s image to the archaic and savage borough the rest of Trost always saw it as. How would he be able to bring the SPD’s reputation back from this? How was he going to face Chief Dawk after this? Nile already gave him enough breaks and with a stunt like this… Erwin swallowed around the sizable lump in his throat. Nile was not forgiving. A low buzz against his thigh caught his attention. Great. What now? He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

    “This is Commander—“

    “I need you at the station; get here now.” Shit. Why was she calling?

    “Commissioner, I’m in the middle of investigating a crime scene. I can’t just leave my men—“

    “Commander,” Commissioner Rico ordered. Her tone demanded his silent compliance. He acquiesced. “Come to the station at once. Leave your men behind; this will be brief. You have fifteen minutes. Don’t be late.” The call clicked off before Erwin could even think of something to say. Dammit. His stomach lurched like a ship, stuck in the midst of a wild storm on the sea. Trouble was coming. 

    “Lieutenant Leonhardt!” he shouted. Annie straightened up from her crouched position on the floor and rested her evidence camera on her chest before saluting him, right fist over her heart. “You will be assuming control of this crime scene while I am away. Make sure Sergeants Braun and Hoover pass their assignments through you and document all the evidence correctly.”

    “Yes, sir. When will you return?” She asked, brows relaxed and eyes heavily lidded.

    “Keep us strong,” he ordered with a final salute, ignoring her question, and turned towards the doors. Truthfully, he didn’t have a good feeling about coming back at all.

_______

    Erwin walked into his office. His blinds were just as he left them, drawn tightly with dust lining the surface and ensuring his privacy. His desk was still crowded with papers and thick manila folders. His plaque was still crooked over the printer. But the center of his office was preoccupied with a woman: Commissioner Rico. Greyish white hair fell uniformly to her chin, held in place by the thick straps attached to her glasses. Light grey eyes shone brightly, even in the dark of his office. She held an envelope with her fingertips, toying with it ever so slightly.

    “Commissioner. To what do I owe this honor?”

    “This can’t be overlooked, Erwin.” Right to the point, then. Shit.

    “What are you talking about?” he frowned.

    “First three separate killings without a single lead. That much was not out of sorts, after all, it is Shiganshina.” Erwin clenched his hands into fists but she ignored him. “But then you talked back to the Chief and staked your job on it. And now this. You knew what would happen the moment you found out about this mass murder.” They couldn’t—Nile wouldn’t… He still had so much to do.

    “No. No, you can’t do that. You’re making a mistake, both of you. I can lead this branch back to glory. My father, Charles Smith, he ousted the Commander before him, Ackerman, and brought the SPD to be the best municipal police force in 1996. I can bring it back, we’re already on the way back,” he insisted. The words poured from his mouth without end. It wasn’t fair to do this. He was so close.

    “Erwin,” Rico began.

    “Listen, this town is not hopeless. I can bring it back; we’re funding programs—”

    “Commander.” He stared into bright grey eyes lacking remorse or doubt. She held out the envelope and kept his stare with cold, unblinking eyes. “I know this place means a lot to you and your family but you can’t help it any more than your father could. Chief Dawk wants you out and we’re closing this branch after this investigation. I will assume the role of Commissioner here and oversee the B.K.S. case, effective immediately. Turn in your badge and gun.” 

    Coldness seeped through each layer of his clothes until it stroked the edges of his soul. Numb. He was numb. Yet, he watched his hands obey Rico’s orders. Those hands that suffered thousands of paper cuts, hundreds of callouses and a permanent roughness, squeezed triggers hundreds of times… Those cowardly hands of his that could not gather the courage to show his disagreement, they moved on their own accord, snatching his rightful badge from his chest and ripping his holstered gun from his belt. They clattered on the desk as if they were toys he brought to his mother as punishment.

    “Thank you for your service. You are hereby relieved of your duty as the commander of the Shiganshina Police Department,” Rico spoke. “You have until the end of the day to gather your things.” With that, she placed the envelope on his—now her—desk and strode out of the room, heels clicking against the tiled floor.

    Erwin looked around the office. The heat rattled the vents as it blew through. The printer hummed quietly in its little nook, a yellow light flashing; the toner would need replacing. He cast his eyes on the desk that belonged to his father. The same one Rico snatched out from under him. His faded nameplate still stood tall and proud, the letters carved out so elegantly in the gold: COMMANDER ERWIN SMITH.

    “One day, son, you’ll be here too. Leading the SPD with integrity and honesty is the greatest honor and privilege, no matter what people may say about it.”

    Erwin licked his lips and blinked. He was staring at the crooked plaque. His father was right. He led the SPD with nothing short of integrity and honesty, going so far as to even put his personal life on hold. And for what? To have it taken away because of some serial killer? No. He needed to show the Chief his ability. Had to find a way to get his job back. He gave up everything to this job, he needed it back. He was nothing without it. He needed to impress Chief Dawk, needed to—

    He needed to catch B.K.S. without the help of the department.

-!@#$%^&*-

Two days. He’d only been part of the SPD for two days and there was already a mass murder. He knew Shiganshina was a dangerous place, full of the people the rest of Trost did not want to harbor, but this? This was insane. Maybe this was why there were only nine officers on the SPD Force. Who could handle this? Learn to cope with this?

    “Arlet,” Lieutenant Leonhardt quipped as she walked over. Her badge gleamed on her belt along with her gun as she walked, hips moving rigidly, without any sway. A frown pulled at her lips but he couldn’t tell if it was because of the crime scene or her dislike of him. In retrospect, he really hadn’t set the greatest first impression. “Finish your part yet?”

    “No, ma’am. I still have to go over and make sure I got everything,” he sighed.

    “Hurry up. We got a call in from Reeves, coverin’ the front desk. Commissioner Breszenska is ‘ere to elaborate on our evidence from today,” she snapped. Without waiting for a response, Annie spun away, walking towards the tall, muscled blonde guy: Reiner Braun, Sargent of Identification. Their names were finally starting to stick; what a relief. Now, he just had to gain their unwavering trust.

    “Focus,” he muttered to himself as he raised his camera and took a snapshot. His corner of the room was immaculate. Not a drop of blood anywhere. But from what he overheard Reiner say earlier, that was the case everywhere. B.K.S. must have killed the people elsewhere and moved them to this warehouse. But how would he do that? The bus? Was he seriously the bus driver? Goosebumps rose down his arm as his stomach dropped. Shit. The bus driver is too obvious a lead; there was no way B.K.S would still be under that cover. But who else could he be? Who could drive up to a warehouse with at least ten bodies in their car without anyone else noticing? Dammit! Armin gnashed his teeth and snapped another photo. This was bad. The department was nowhere near close to finding a lead nor he with finding Dr. Hanji. Meanwhile, a few more people just got hacked to hell while they dawdled their thumbs and ran in circles.

    “Look, I know you’re doing your job but I have a higher rank than you,” another voice spoke from the warehouse doorway. Iciness coursed through his body, making every limb heavier than a sandbag and rooting him in place. Goddamn it! Of all people, why was he here? “I’m Lieutenant Jean Kirschtein, second-in-command for Commissioner Rico Bresenska of the Trost Police Department. My orders are to have my men take over this scene while all of Commander Erwin Smith’s men are to report back to the Shiganshina Police Department HQ. These are straight from the Commissioner herself.” 

    “Anybody with a fancy-ass pen can forge some paperwork. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a lieutenant too, second-in-command for Commander Erwin. There’s a goddamn murderer on the loose here and you expect me to just let you waltz in ‘ere with a sheet of paper in hand, claiming your boss is Commissioner Rico? My orders haven’t changed; you ain’t getting in, period.” Annie spoke firmly.

    Armin always told Jean his “I-outrank-you” speech was not going to work one day. He never anticipated seeing that day in person. He turned back to face the wall, staring at his camera intently. He had enough pictures so theoretically he could just drop the camera off at the Identification Station. He would have to slip out of here somehow, make up an excuse. Commander Erwin would disapprove but he could probably talk his way out of it.  Armin glanced up from his camera. Annie and Jean were at the door; a few bodies were still hanging up a bit behind them. Reiner was standing by the coffee addict—Bertolt. Oh wait! Fucking hell, Bertolt was the fucking sergeant of Identification; no way in hell he could slip the camera and bolt out of here. Damn it! Armin tightened his fingers around the camera. He was running out of options, but he’d find a way. He always found a way.

He scanned the few officers milling around. They snapped pictures every now and then but their listlessness gave away their lack of focus. He was looking for a young guy with a bowl-cut. He was the office try-hard idiot who thought he could actually change the system. Experience hadn’t numbed him yet. It would, eventually. If he could just give him his camera, he’d be able to sneak off.

Armin halted his scan abruptly. There, under the last corpse, Marlo was snapping more pictures. It was uncanny how easily he could stand under a mutilated corpse and click away, as if it was a living model. Carefully, Armin took a small step towards him.  Then another. And another. It was just one measly walk. One small trip across the warehouse. The key was walking normally; don’t give anyone a reason to look at him. It was easy, but Armin found himself trembling, sweat streaming from under his bangs. He was nearly there, just a little farther. He opened his mouth, Marlo’s name sitting on the tip of his tongue. “Mar—“

    “Lieutenant Annie, is that correct?” A cold voice snaked into the air, choking the calm atmosphere into complete submission. It circulated his body, snuffing out the air in his lungs.

    “Yes, ma’am.”

    “I am Commissioner Rico. Recruit the rest of Erwin’s men immediately; there’s been a development that affects them all.” Annie kept her eyes level with the Commissioner as she unclicked her radio from her belt and spoke into it.

    “All members of squads ID, Narcos, Evidence, and Criminal Investigation report to the warehouse door immediately.” Annie’s words rang in his ear but Armin’s feet remained planted. Rico couldn’t see him. He had to stay out of her eyesight. Marlo passed him without a word of hesitation. As did Reiner, Bertolt, Daz from Narcos, Willy from Evidence, and some other stoutly guy he had yet to meet. They were nothing if not loyal to the job, able to obey an order from a superior without question, like mindless armed bodies.

That wasn’t him. Armin scanned the room again. Oh! In the back left corner, a door! He started towards it, sweat pooling in the small of his back, soaking his shirt.

“That means you too, Detective Arlet.”

Fuck. He turned to face several pairs of eyes on him. Jean’s eyes were narrow, brow drawn knit. Behind him, Ymir stood with her arms crossed and eyes trained on him as well. She, however, lacked any judgement in her gaze; Armin almost wished it hadn’t. He swallowed. “Sorry? What are we doing?”

“All members of Commander Erwin’s team are to come to the doorway. Are you suddenly deaf or deliberately disobeying a direct order from your superior?” Commissioner Rico spoke. Her voice was not unique. It offered nothing imaginative from its slightly lower than average tenor for a woman. And yet, Armin had to force himself to stop trembling from the power and discipline it exuded when she spoke.

“No! No, of course not. My radio must be malfunctioning again,” Armin chuckled as he hurried over to the group. 

“Not surprising considering our location,” Jean murmured under his breath. “This place is so fucking backward.” Annie cast the outsider a glare but only tightened her lips into a line.

“Quiet, Jean,” the commissioner chided. “Now, I’m only going to say this once. Commander Erwin made a wager with the devil and lost. He was fired from the Trost Police Department and his men will now be under my command. After this investigation is closed and the serial killer caught, the Shiganshina branch of the T.P.D will be closed.”

Armin knew his mouth was open but he didn’t care. Fuck! With Erwin gone, how was he going to find Professor Hanji? Rico would fire him if she even caught wind of him using resources for an unapproved missing person search. Armin curled his hands into fists. It would be exactly like what happened in Trost.

“C-Closed?” Reiner started. “You can’t close the S.P.D; people need us. I’ve worked here since I graduated high school…”

“What did the commander do? He couldn’t be…fired. His father practically built the S.P.D,” Annie muttered, swaying slightly.

“Entertain whatever thoughts you want; what I told you were orders from Chief Dawk. Now, disperse. Rank will hold the same weight, whether you’re my men or you were Erwin’s. I want this scene completely documented in three hours.” With a clap of her hand, the officers scattered. Armin had not even contemplated his first step away before a hand gripped his shoulder. “Everyone except you, Arlet. We have some catching up to do outside.” His stomach plummeted as his heart leaped into his throat. Rico’s hand steered him towards the door but it barely touched him. He could shrug her off if he dared but he wasn’t an idiot.

The sun’s rays blinded Armin. He’d been in the warehouse so long, he forgot it was only a little past one.  He blinked twice, thrice before turning to face his new boss. Silver hair still cut exactly chin length without a strand out of place. Thick straps fastened circular frames to her face and accentuated her short, pointed nose. Fierce eyes bore into his own and Armin immediately averted his gaze. That was Commissioner Rico’s power: intimidation. Everything about her screamed discipline and authority.

“So,” she began. “How’s your little siesta with the S.P.D going?”

“Uh, quite well,” he grunted and cleared his throat, looking anywhere but her face.

“Why did you come here, Armin?” So much for small talk.

“Are you asking me or ordering me to tell you,” he replied and caught her eyes for a brief moment.

“Should I be ordering you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then answer me out of courtesy. I take you on as my apprentice and you betray me by quitting the T.P.D and moving here.” Armin flinched. Still, he remained silent, eyes firmly resting their gaze just behind the commissioner.

“Well,” Rico finally continued after a pregnant pause. “We had a nurse call in today. Claims one of her patients is a victim of B.K.S. You’re going to interview them since you never really were much help at crime scenes.”

“Right now?”

“Yes. It’s a small clinic on 2119 East Church Run Road,” she ordered while holding out a slip of paper. “Be back in three hours. Dismissed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

-!@#$%^&*(-

The clinic was more of a shack from the outside. It was once beautiful. The rusted metalwork was stunning: thorny vines wrapping around delicately formed roses painted in black. A once stark white door now gleamed with a yellow tint, the years showing their toll on the paint’s hold. A mailbox was nailed to the wall next to the door, the doctor’s name on it unrecognizable at this point. Only a recently painted stethoscope on it gave away that this was the entrance to a clinic at all. Armin sighed and trudged up the steps.

He pushed on the door, only to be greeted with a nose full of antiseptic.

_“Grandpa’s all better, Ar. Let’s go for ice cream.”_

He froze. No. No, no, no, no, no. He got help, he was treated. Armin struggled to reign in his breathing. Deep breaths. In seven, out eleven. He was okay. He wasn’t at the hospital. This was a clinic. He needed to interview a victim.

“Excuse me, sir? Are you okay?” a soft voice approached. Armin opened his eyes; he hadn’t realized they were shut. A nurse was staring at him, eyes blue and wide in concern. Blonde hair was drawn into a messy bun with a few strands resting on her purple scrubs.

“Yeah,” he gasped. “Yeah, just memories. I, uh, I don’t do well in medical facilities.”

“Do you need anything? Water or—“

“No, no I’m good, I’m fine,” Armin reassured. He straightened up and huffed a breath again. Grandpa died three years ago in a facility much more equipped than here. He cleared his throat again. “I’m actually a detective responding to a tip from a nurse here?”

“Oh, finally!” she exclaimed and clapped her hands together. “I admitted her two days ago after she wandered in, wild-eyed and scared. My name’s Historia, by the way. Yours?”

“Detective Armin Arlet,” he declared while pulling out his badge. Historia glanced at it and began walking into the building. He followed without hesitation. The inside was barren. The waiting room had a few chairs and some well-read magazines. The carpet they trod upon had seen better days. They walked behind the front desk and into a hallway lined with doors. Windows lined the other wall, letting sunlight flood the enclosed space.

Armin nearly ran into Historia as she stopped in front of a closed door. “Listen,” she started. “Her name is Isabel Magnolia. She’s been pretty quiet so don’t expect too much from her. If she gets aggravated, leave the room.” Armin nodded and pulled out a notepad from his pocket. Historia knocked on the door then slowly pushed it open.

“Isabel? You have a visitor. He’s a detective who just wants to ask you some questions.” Armin stepped into the room. It was bursting with sunlight. The girl on the bed barely noticed. Her red hair was washed but dried frizzy and out of place.  Her face was gaunt, pale skin stretched over pronounced cheekbones. Pale, chapped lips remained pressed together and lifeless viridian eyes stared through Armin, seeing but unseeing. It was unsettling but he’d seen it before on others’ faces. Still, Isabel was too young to look like the hopeless citizens of Shiganshina. On the bed, she rested both arms but only one hand. Her left hand shook slightly against the bedspread but she did nothing to calm it. Her right arm, however… It was bandaged at the elbow, the rest of her forearm and hand missing. Armin turned his gaze from her amputated arm to the bed, look for a place to sit. It was only then he noted how short her legs were. Armin pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. Even if this wasn’t the work of B.K.S., such senseless violence. What the hell happened to this place for its people to become so inhumane?

The click of the door closing jolted Armin from his thoughts. He had a job to do. “Alright. Uh, hello. I’m Detective Armin Arlet. I just want to ask you some questions and then I’ll go.” Isabel remained silent yet her eyes were still trained on him. “A-Alright. Nurse Historia has reason to believe you might be a victim of B.K.S. Would you affirm or deny that?” Silence. The shouts of men in the alley behind the clinic wafted through the air—another drug deal. “Can you tell me anything about what happened to you? How long ago would be a great place to start.” The argument picked up; glass shattered. Isabel kept quiet. Maybe she needed a story, a conversation to get her to react. Armin sighed and placed his notebook down.

“I never really knew my parents. They were travelers and one time their plane didn’t land when it should’ve. I was five.” Isabel blinked. “So my grandfather raised me. He was surprisingly agile for a man his age, I’ll tell you,” he chuckled. “We used to live in East Rose. There was a truck carrying ice cream that would drive through my neighborhood every day in the summertime. Grandpa would give me a quarter every day so that on Fridays I could finally buy two cones of pistachio ice cream. Then my best friend and I would go back to my porch and eat it together with him.” Armin paused. Why was he telling her this? His picture-perfect boyhood in East Rose compared to her no doubt rough upbringing here in Shiganshina. She’d probably only resent him. “It was nice while it lasted,” he finally whispered.

Armin stood from the bed. “If you think you’re ready to talk, have Historia call me. You’ll get through this, Isabel.” Without looking back to meet her lifeless eyes, Armin hurried out of the room. Jesus, he had enough for the day. First, the hanging bodies in the crime scene and now this shell of a child… His stomach churned. He strode through the hall and past the front desk.

“Leaving already?” Historia chirped. “I didn’t think she’d talk but still.”

“She’s too traumatized. She won’t talk for a few days the very least,” Armin snapped.

“I’m…sorry,” Historia replied softly. “It’s just when she came in she said she was screaming about a bus full of people who were going to die and I thought she was just delusional. But then after watching the news today, maybe not.”  Oh, hell. If Nurse Historia wasn’t lying, he would have to monitor her, visit every day until Isabel spoke.

“I’ll come back until she talks, then. Now, I need to be leaving—“

“It’s an adjustment, isn’t it?” Historia just would not fucking let him go. “I came here from Sina and I thought crime in the Sina slums were bad. Where are you from?”

Wait. Sina? “East Rose then the heart of Trost. Say, did you by chance go to the University of Sina?”

“That is my alma mater, yes.” Oh god! Maybe she knew him!

“Did you know a Professor Hanji Zoe?”

“Oh, yes! He was the strangest professor I ever had but I really liked him,” Historia smiled.

“Do you remember any of his contact information?”

She made a face, pursing her lips and knitting her brow, as she reflected. “No. But he has an internship or mentoring program with his favorite student at that one bookstore downtown. It’s called the something Grotto. I always wished I had the opportunity to go with him but this other kid in my class got it.” Holy fuck. What if it was him? What if it was him!

“D-Do those kids usually commute for the internship or—“

“No, Professor Hanji provides a living space because it’s usually really intensive.” Oh god, he’s here. He could be here, right under his nose the whole damn time.

“And do you remember who won this internship? The name of the student?”

Historia laughed. “Yeah, he was a good friend of mine. Eren Jaeger.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> triggers: mentions of cutting, body mutilation descriptions, house fires  
> Read at your own discretion.

Chapter 9 

_He was trapped in a small room. His hands roamed the smooth walls for the hundredth time, searching for a ridge or something to pry open or carve a way out. Blackness consumed his vision, unyielding but not immobilizing. At least, not entirely. He already gave up screaming for help, no one was coming to save him. Why would anyone save an unwanted screw- up of a child?  Levi sniffled, not yet desperate enough to wipe the snot running from his nose on his arms and shirt. He breathed out a shaky sigh but instead of breathing in deeply again, he nearly choked. He doubled over, knees hitting the ground as coughs wracked his small frame. The air was thick as it passed over his tongue. He could not breathe, could not get enough air. His chest hurt with each grating breath like Father was pressing him against the wall, waiting to strap him down and toss him aside, forgotten. The snot running down his nose clogged it, forcing quick pants from his lips. Eyes wide, Levi coughed harder. He sat on the ground, eyes beginning to burn as another cough ripped its way out from his chest. Everything was changing. The air  was  pungent , tasting of ash and heat. Tears escaped his eyes as he squeezed them shut, trying and failing to cool them as the temperature spiked. Smoke. Where was it coming from? But that did not matter as its wispy tendrils were more than content to wrap around his throat, suffocating him slowly. He crawled backward on his hands until his back was pressed against the furthest corner, panting shallow breaths for more air._

_It was not working._

_A cold clarity seeped into his being, like drops of blood in water. He could not fight death this time; he was locked in here and would eventually suffocate. Everyone dies eventually and his time was now. And that was okay. There was no more need to fight. Someone decided it was his time and he was not strong enough to stop it. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his legs, unwilling to rasp for another breath as his heart beat faster to cling to life. He wished it would just stop, give up._

_It was time to let go, just like Farlan._

 

Levi’s eyes snapped open, breath caught in his throat. Everything was black—he couldn’t see. Fuck. He was stuck in the room. The closet. His teeth chattered as his body trembled. He wrenched his head back, taking in a different darkness. This one was softer, forgiving. It revealed...his bedroom. The shitty water-stained ceiling. The setting sun's dying rays poked through a small window towards his ceiling. It was a dream. For the most part. Levi sighed and rested his head back on—wait. A snore sounded. What the hell? The faint poundings of a headache pulsed along his temples. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was the shitty soup, talking to Eren on the floor and _—shit._   

Eren. Somehow it always came back to Eren. Levi clenched his hands resting on soft skin. Why did he give in? How? How could he be so fucking stupid, so goddamn willing? Another snore tore through the silence and Levi jerked his head back. Fucking Eren and his goddamn clinginess. Levi eased open his hands and shoved at his entrapper. “Wake up, moron,” he grunted as he struggled to untangle himself from Eren’s long arms. The idiot was bulkier than he remembered. Must’ve hit the gyms in Sina. Probably had lines of men waiting to fuck him there too.  

“I don’t want to get up yet,” Eren said, his voice rough and raspy.  

“Then get your damn arms off me,” Levi snapped.  He shoved Eren’s chest again as Eren released his grip. Levi crawled off the bed and stood, snatching his sweatpants off the floor as he moved. As he crammed his feet through, another rumbling snore announced Eren was once again dead to the world. Ha. Dead. Maybe B.K.S. got him. A frown tugged at Levi’s lips. That wasn’t funny. Fuck. It was too early for this. Or late. What time was it? Levi brushed a hand by his pocket—no phone. He must have left it in the kitchen before he fell asleep. Glaring at nothing really in particular, he walked out the door towards the kitchen, running a hand down his face. It was stubbly; he’d need a shave.  

The couch area was still a goddamn mess. A soup bowl sat overturned, its contents dry and stuck to the wooden floor. Fan-fucking-tastic. Now he'd have to be on his knees for hours, scrubbing the fucking shriveled up noodles and spices from the already shitty floor. Beside the spilled soup bowl laid Eren's blankets, unfolded and strewn about the floor. Asshole could have folded them at the very least. Or moved them to one heap. But then again...maybe he wasn't giving Eren enough credit. After all, he must’ve moved them to the bed sometime after he fell asleep again. No, that's what any decent person would do. He didn't have to give him any credit. Bastard.  

Levi walked over to the couch and lifted up the blankets. He was here, no point leaving it filthy. If Eren didn't have enough common sense to put his goddamn shit away last night or whenever the hell they were awake, he sure as hell wasn't going to miraculously get it when he woke up. Levi didn't bother beating the blankets for dust; they weren't his anyway. He folded both with ease and tossed them on the couch. Eren could grab them on his way out. Now it was just the soup bowl. As he stooped to pick it up, something caught the corner of his eye.  

A white envelope sitting by the front door.  

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The accident that wasn't an accident. The whole reason Eren was here to begin with. How could he forget? More importantly, what was going to happen to him now? B.K.S. didn't seem the forgiving type. Levi let out a deep breath and swallowed around the lump in his throat. It was just a letter. He couldn't die from a letter unless it was poisoned and that wasn't a very fun way to murder someone. You'd miss all the screaming, the begging, the quiet snuff of life from the victim's eyes. B.K.S. wouldn't want to miss that. Temporarily relieved, Levi walked over to the letter. It was identical to the others. His name typed on the front center was the only written thing on the envelope. It didn't feel any different than the other letters either. Maybe that was a good thing? 

Levi picked at the envelope, the sealed edges giving away without much effort. He tugged the pictures out first as he walked to the counter in the kitchenette. This time, there were only two. The first was of him and Eren, back when they were first together. Eren forced him into a photo booth, declaring they had to memorialize their trip to the boardwalk in West Rose. They, mainly Eren, did stupid poses and faces. Levi always had his favorite snapshot. It was the last one on the strip, the same picture currently resting in his fingers: a simple picture of Eren hugging Levi close and leaning over to press a kiss on his cheek despite his own playful roll of his eyes. It was such a simpler time. Before Eren ruined everything. When they escaped the unhappy tendrils of Shiganshina, of life as they always knew it. Levi swallowed thickly. A lump was growing in the back of his throat as his stomach began to sink. Why did B.K.S. have this picture? How did he get it?  

Levi placed the picture of him and Eren down and pulled out the other. It was of him and Nanaba, back when he first returned to Shiganshina. Nanaba was asleep on the couch, face complete with a drawn-on mustache, goatee, and penis on his forehead. Levi held the dry-erase marker proudly, a grin on his face. He used to be such a little shit. He wasn't so much of a mess then, even after the day-old trauma of Farlan and Mrs. Church's violent deaths. Nanaba was beyond pissed when he woke up, even though the whole idea was Mike's. But again, how the fuck did B.K.S. get it? Was Nanaba hurt? Fuck. Levi tapped his pocket again: empty. His phone was somewhere around here. He'd have to find it later and call Nanaba, make sure he was okay. But the letter took precedence. He set Nanaba's picture down beside Eren's and finally tugged it out.  

 

Dearest Levi,  

You were doing so well, but you fucked up. Ignore me again, and I’ll slit your wrists while you’re in the bath. Sound familiar? 

Since you took advantage of my kindness, you need to learn your lesson. My next victim will be Eren or Nanaba; the choice is up to you. A reliable friend or an incompetent lover. Miserable normalcy or terrifying happiness.   

Leave the picture of the one you choose to kill at the broken home at the end of your street Sunday night at 10 P.M.  

Do not disappoint me again. If you do, you'll wish I'd killed you.  

 

The letter slipped out of Levi’s stony hands onto the countertop, covering the faces of his friends marked for death. Everything was warm. B.K.S was right. He fucked up. He really fucked up. Now the only two people he came to tolerate in this godforsaken world were next on death row. The heat grew, entrapping him. Without thought, Levi snatched the fruit bowl off the counter and flung it against the wall. It shattered beautifully, ceramic bursting into millions of tiny shards. A rather big shard rebounded from the wall, nicking his cheek and drawing small rivulets of blood. It didn’t sting; the blood just made the cut noticeable. This was bullshit! This wasn't real, couldn't be. This... this was  _solely_  because of him. God, he was such a fucking piece of  _shit._ To think, he had the arrogance to even consider he had any semblance of control over this situation he voluntarily put himself into. Levi buried his hands in his hair and pulled. His eyes watered but that was it. The pain didn't hurt. He needed to feel something, dammit. Be angry, be hurt, actually feel bad because of his actions for once in his life. If there was ever a time, it was now. But why couldn't he?  

Somewhere in the house, a floorboard creaked. Levi snapped out of his self-loathing. "Eren?" Silence. He probably woke him up by breaking the bowl. Whatever. Time to rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.  

This wasn’t the time to mourn his lack of feeling. He ground his teeth together and tugged harder at his hair. He really needed a trim. Focus. He needed to think up a plan. Brows knitted tightly, he thrust his hand into his sweatpants pocket and fished for his phone. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't there. He had to find it. It was somewhere nearby, but hopefully not in the pre-shattered fruit bowl. Levi eyed the counters—nothing. Maybe it was on the couches? He hurried over, avoiding the fallen soup bowl and lifting up the blankets. Of course. It was there, buried in a crevice. Levi snatched up the troublesome device and checked his notifications. Shit; it must've been on silent. He had sixteen missed calls from Nanaba and twelve from Mike along with three from Eren and one from Hanji. They were worried. That’s nice. They didn’t need to be; he couldn’t take the bus anymore since it didn't drop him anywhere near his new job. But that was beside the point. Levi checked the date—Friday, November 9. It was seven o’clock. Great. There went his already fucked up sleep schedule. But it was Friday. The letter gave him to Sunday. That left him two days to decide which life to save. Wonderful.  

A crash and loud “Fuck!” from outside his front door tore Levi’s attention from the letter. The scrapings of a key in the lock jolted him into action. He needed to hide the letter and pictures. Breathing in deeply, he pried open the drawer without a knob and slid the letter and envelope in first.  Something wispy brushed against his hand as he withdrew it, but he forced himself to forget about it. Spiders in his kitchen drawers. Great. Lovely. Fucking disgusting.  

As the door lock clicked back, Levi tossed the pictures in and slammed his hip into the drawer, forcing it closed. The door burst open, letting in a very wet and very angry blond. Nanaba pushed his hair out of his eyes and locked onto Levi, standing at his counter, phone in hand and agitation painting his face. Concern quickly shifted to fury as Nanaba panted, breaths getting progressively louder. “You're here? You're fine? God, you even have your phone in your fucking hand!" he laughed and looked up at the ceiling. "I knew you were an asshole but goading me on like that was just sick, Levi.”  

“Nanaba, I’m sorry. I wasn't goading you— “ 

“You think I want an apology?” he shouted and ran a brisk hand through his hair, spraying more water onto the growing puddle at his feet. Levi sighed but did not move his eyes from Nanaba’s slightly red ones. Wait, why were they—was he crying? “Twenty people so far, Levi. They’re calling twenty people dead so far in that warehouse. Do you know how scared I was for you? You took that bus to work for eleven years and now a week later, everyone on that bus is dead with possibly more.” 

“Holy shit,” Levi breathed. “Twenty people? That’s…” he trailed off. The buses in Shiganshina held thirty-five people at most. To kill twenty…that was an actual busload of people. Fuck. Fuck. B.K.S. wasn’t fucking around; they weren’t bluffing about any of their threats. “That’s a busload,” he finished quietly, eyes still unwavering from Nanaba’s.  

“Do you know how much I was freaking out today? This was just like what happened with Mikasa.” Levi inhaled sharply. “She had the same look you have right now the last time I saw her, that quiet anger. She didn’t show up to work one day. I called her and got no answer. Waited till my break to walk over to your house and it was up in flames, roof starting to collapse.”  

 _It was so loud but so quiet. The roar of the flames. The lack of screams._  

“Nanaba, shut up,” Levi bit out, finally turning away from him. He squeezed his eyes shut but he could feel the memories clawing for his attention as Nanaba's angry voice slipped into the background.  

_In the drawer. He scrambled to the back of the utensil drawer.  Shi —crap, the box was dancing along the edge of his fingertips but all the blood on his hands made it too slippery to grab._

_“WHERE THE HELL IS THAT KID?” He had to hurry, get the matches. Set the fire before Father could find him.  He lunged forward, looking for a corner to snag—finally! The coarse sandpaper scrapped his finger but a scratch wasn’t important. He ran to the kitchen sink and opened the doors underneath it._

_Mother’s bar._

_He reached for a bottle of something; he never could read the labels in that fancy script all of them were written in. A warmth surrounded him as Father’s footsteps got louder. He was going to be fine, just like Mikasa said. He gripped the bottle and twisted the cap with his shirt like Mother always did. It popped right off. With steady hands, he poured the liquid onto the floor, trailing it to Mika’s butchered and bleeding corpse. He wrinkled his nose as the stench burned it. Disgusting. How did Mother drink this stuff?_

_“WHAT'RE YOU DOING WITH ALCOHOL? LEVI, ANSWER YOUR FATHER RIGHT NOW!” Levi froze and looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, Father staggered into the room, clutching his bloodied eyes with one hand and using the other to guide him. He was close to the first puddle of alcohol. Just a little further, that’s all he needed. Then he’d slip and break his neck off the counter. Just a little slip._

_Levi stepped over Mikasa with caution, hands fumbling for a match as he moved. This was it. He swallowed and ran the stick across the sandpaper, watching as the friction sparked a flame. Eyes glued to his blinded father, he let the burning match slip from his fingers._

_The kitchen would burn soon enough. He needed to find a place to hide. He didn’t look back as he ran to his room. Not even when Father’s shout and abrupt silence sounded behind him. Not even when he saw his unconscious mother lying on her bed, unaware her daughter and husband laid dead on the floor in the other room as hungry flames tasted their flesh. She’d join them soon enough. He burst into his bedroom and closed the door. To the closet. Get in and close the door. Crawl to the furthest corner. Breathe the smoke. Close his eyes._

_Wait to die._

“Levi, I dragged you out of a burning house, okay? That forges a bond between us, whether you want to admit it or not. You may not realize this or want to believe this, but there are people who care about you. People who want to find out you're alive because you tell them, not because they had to break your goddamn door.” Levi remained silent save for his rapid breaths. He was safe. He wasn’t in the house. Father was dead. Nanaba should have let him die in that fire too.  

“Nanaba,” Levi managed, gripping the counter as he spoke, voice ragged from the memory of smoke. “I’m sorry. My phone was on silent, I was sick early this morning and I fell asleep all day. I swear I only just found it on the couch when you kicked my fucking door in. I know we have a bond, you’re one of my closest friends. My only friend, really.” Levi turned around, meeting blue eyes again. They were clouded with tears. “I’m really sorry but I’m fine. I wasn’t on the bus. I’m alive. I'm okay.” What a lie. He was the furthest thing from any mild form of being “okay”. It was all sincere yet empty words. No feeling. No regret. His shaken voice must've worked, though. Nanaba wiped his eyes and a small grin found its way onto his face. He uncrossed his arms and strode over, quick to pull Levi into a tight, wet hug.  

“You asshole,” Nanaba muttered. Levi smirked at that one and patted his friend’s back. Turned out more of a slap, actually. Well, he tried.  

"Why are you soaked like a fucking dog?" Levi finally asked and pulled away. The puddle was getting quite large.  

"It’s been pouring all evening. Didn't you hear all the thunder? I know you're a light sleeper."  

"I pretty much knocked out from exhaustion. I hate throwing up.” 

“Oh man,” Nanaba grimaced. “Did you get food poisoning or something? I told you that convenience store has sketchy canned food.” Bless Nanaba. Levi didn’t even have to think up a lie to say. But it didn’t matter; a loud yawn captured both their attention.  

“Levi? Everything okay?” Eren called out as he walked into the room. The prick was shirtless, dark brown nipples perky in the cold air and hair a wild black mess. “I heard shouting and it woke me up but you weren’t in bed so I just…” He faltered off as he observed the pair. “Am I interrupting something?”  

The grin on Nanaba’s face melted off like an ice cube under hot water. “The fuck do you think you’re doing here?”  

Shit, this was the actual last thing Levi needed right now: Eren and Nanaba arguing over him. They never got along. Not that it would be an issue soon enough. Still, he needed to end whatever was happening before it began if the glint in Eren’s eye meant anything. “Look, both of you calm down,” Levi snapped. “Eren, go put a fucking shirt on for starters.” Eren rolled his eyes but didn't protest Levi's order, ambling back to the bedroom. He barely left the room before Nanaba slapped Levi’s arm.  

“And when were you going to mention you found and slept with your deadbeat ex?” he said, arms folded across his chest. Fantastic timing, Eren. Asshole probably planned that entire scene. Levi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.   

“Eren’s been back for a while,” Levi started. “Apparently, he's been working at the Grotto for the past year or whatever. And I didn’t sleep with him; I fell asleep  _on_ him. Do you seriously think I'd fuck him after seeing his sorry ass for only two days after five years? I'm not that easy. Besides, he owes me a lot before he gets back in my pants."  

"Sounds convenient," Nanaba replied, eyebrows raised. "Why the hell was he even here?" 

 "He was the one helping me this morning when I was sick.” Levi rested a hand in his hair as he spoke. It was limp and slightly greasy, not to mention tangled. Gross. Maybe Eren could cut it for him. That was the only thing he was good for back then. He was pretty good with his old-fashioned blade. Got all the angles perfectly. 

"Did you give him a key? How did he get in?" 

"I don't know? I woke up and there he was inside my house. Maybe he remembered where I hide the spare key," Levi muttered.  

"Or maybe he broke in. Again." Nanaba groaned and pressed a hand against his forehead. “God Levi, do you hear yourself? Why are you letting him back into your life? You were hurt after he left. I know you were. I just don’t think he’s a good idea for you right now."  _You don’t fucking know me like you think you do, Nanaba._ Levi sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"  

 "You haven't been the most...stable lately," Nanaba admitted, choosing his words carefully. His efforts were in vain.  

"Fuck you, Nanaba. My life is going to shit but Eren makes me happy, so I am going to do something for myself for the first time in my goddamn life,” Levi said.  

“Don’t tell me you already got back together,” Nanaba scoffed. “Levi, he doesn’t  _care_ about you—“  

“Okay, you know what? I don’t need this right now,” Levi announced and stalked around the kitchen. “Where the hell are my keys? I'm going out.”  

“I’m just trying to look out for you.”  

“Yeah, well the people who do that end up dead so just leave me the hell alone.” Nanaba recoiled from Levi as if he'd just slapped him. Shit. Probably should not have said that one. The silence carried entirely too long. Levi kept his eyes away from Nanaba, looking for his keys. His eyes roamed the counter. There they were, by the fruit bowl's previous home; about damn time. He snatched them up.  

“Levi—“ 

Levi spun around, keys in hand and phone tucked into his pocket. “Look, I get you’re just being a good friend but I haven’t felt anything in a long time. If Eren can change that even a little bit, I’m going to stick with him.” His voice left little room for discussion. This was  _his_ choice. He would have to deal with the consequences. Nanaba shook his head and dropped his arms.  

“Fine. Do whatever you want,” Nanaba replied. He shook off his jacket and pulled up his hood, sending raindrops all over the damn floor. “But when you need someone to talk to because you got hurt again, I don't think I'll be able to hold back the 'I-told-you-so'.” Without another word, he turned and left, slamming the door shut behind him.  

Fuck. Levi hated when he and Nanaba fought. He’d have to go over and make-up over a card game or something. A sigh tore past his lips and he dropped his keys, no longer in the mood to go on a walk and instead opting to bury his head in his hands. This was such a mess.  _He_ was such a mess. 

“I didn’t realize how hated I was,” Eren’s quiet voice slithered through the air.  

“Time to open your fucking eyes,” Levi replied. He was too tired for this shit. He lifted his head and walked towards Eren. “You’re going to give me a haircut,” he ordered. He needed something to distract himself. He also needed a cut. Perfect swap.  

“Thank goodness. I didn’t want to comment while you were sick and angry, but it looks like a bird’s nest,” Eren laughed. If he noticed the abrupt topic change, he had enough grace not to call it out. A flutter of warmth tickled Levi’s body but as quickly as he felt it, it was snuffed out. The coldness continued chipping away at his empty core. Levi’s face fell from any semblance of annoyance or anger to his default blankness. He barely paid Eren half a mind as he walked to the bathroom and wrenched the shower handle up. He let it run for a minute, getting the brown water out. The moment the water turned clear, he began to undress. Left arm up. Pull shirt off. Fold it. Start over with the pants. Damn, he loved his routines.  

“Oh, God. Levi, what happened? Are you okay?” Eren gasped, jolting Levi out of whatever daze he’d been sucked into. If one more person asked if he was okay, Levi was pretty sure Commander Smith would actually have real charges to book him.  

“For fuck’s sake, I’m fine!” he shouted, slamming his shirt down on the counter and casting a look over his shoulder. “Stop asking me that fucking question!”  

“But…your back.” Shit. “You never showed me before.”  Shit! His eyes were blown wide. He didn’t like showing his back to anyone. Not even Mrs. Church or Farlon knew how fucked up it was.  But still, he was frozen in place. The secrets of his upbringing unwillingly revealed to Eren. “I only knew about your legs but...” Eren hesitated but stepped into the bathroom, closer to Levi. Levi swallowed but allowed him to come closer. His eyes were locked on Eren’s but Eren's were glued to his back. There it was again, that weird glint in his eyes. He looked…hungry. “Who did this to you?” Eren whispered, the words soft but laced with anger. They didn’t quite match the face they came from. His face carried an odd glimmer of curiosity but lacked any shock or disbelief. It wasn't right.  

Levi turned around, facing Eren fully and shielding his back from his probing eyes. “My father.” The truth felt heavy on his tongue but his chest was so light. Finally, he could tell someone about this. But should he? And Eren of all people, the one most likely to use it against him? But he was supposed to trust Eren now. But that was always his first mistake. Maybe Nanaba was on to something. This wasn't a good idea. Right? Fucking hell, this was all just too much. “Get out,” Levi snapped. “I’ll come to you when I finish.”  

Eren finally pulled his eyes up to reach Levi’s. The glint was gone, but something remained, lurking in the darkness. Levi couldn't figure it out. “Okay. Just call me when you’re ready." Eren fidgeted, right foot rubbing awkwardly against his left and mouth open but sound faltering. "I, uh, I hope you know this but I still love you, Levi. Haven’t really stopped, if I'm being honest.” Face red and looking thoroughly embarrassed, Eren sped out of the bathroom.  It was pretty hot from the steam. That was probably the source of the flush on both their cheeks.  

It was just hot.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: brief mention of slitting throats

Chapter 10 

Levi tossed under his blanket, clutching it tightly.  _Just keep your eyes shut. Go back to sleep._ He shuddered as the meager threads of his shitty blanket finally gave way, exposing his naked shoulder. Fuck, now he was chilly. He rolled over again. Dammit, his room was cold, not chilly. And he wasn't sleeping anymore. Too many stupid fucking thoughts knocking around his head. Levi opened his eyes, squinting at the wall across from him. He wasn't surprised to see it was still black as night in his room. Levi wasn’t sure why he still tried to sleep. He couldn’t make it through the night. Three restless hours, four if he was lucky, were all he seemed to get. Just a few more fucking hours. Was that really so much to ask? Something scuttled across his floor. Probably another spider. A cold draft blew through his spotty roof and into his bedroom as the plastic grocery store bag acting as his room’s trash bin rustled. Must be windy out. His temples pulsed as he shifted his gaze to his clock. 

2:49 A.M. 

A groan left Levi’s lips but he pushed himself up anyway. Didn’t even reach 3:00 today. The remnants of his blanket didn't bother protecting his bare chest from the cold. Great. The first snow would come any day now; he needed to get the house ready. Pull out the thick blanket. Probably should fix this blanket too while he’s at it. Fuck, he’d also have to look into fixing the roof. Rain leaking randomly into his house was one thing. But snow? Icicles forming because of his own ignorance? Hell no. Levi pushed himself to his feet and ambled over to his closet. His old brain hoodie had fallen off its hanger at some point. His hips and knees went off like firecrackers as he squatted to retrieve it. Legs tingling, Levi walked out of his room and straight for the front door. His keys were pocketed...somehow. He didn't remember walking out yesterday but whose knows? Add sleepwalking to the list of 'Things That Screw Over Levi'. He shoved his feet into some worn down shoes and yanked his door open. A shrill squeak pierced the cold silence. 

The brisk air stabbed him through the flimsy fabric of his sweatpants and hoodie. He really should have put a shirt on under the hoodie. The wind stripped away his fatigue and replaced it with shivers wracking its way through his body. Still, he needed to get moving. Levi pulled his door shut and started down the walkway. Fuck, it was cold. He shoved his hands into the hoodie’s pocket as he walked along his street, going against the wind. What was going to happen when it started snowing? It's not like he hadn't gone for walks in the snow before but now that a serial killer was watching him, leaving a trail of footsteps leading right to him wasn't the smartest of ideas. Maybe he should stay indoors, work on the house instead. That wouldn't be a completely awful idea, though Brenda would tear his throat out with her dentures if he made too much noise at that time every day. 

Levi chuckled, his breath freezing before his eyes. Shit, it was really fucking  _cold!_ He twisted his hands deeper in his pocket and clenched his teeth. His face was probably red by now. His cheeks and ears stung, and his newly cleaned and cut hair didn't stand a chance either, exposing his scalp to the bitter coldness. Eren finally did something right and it was still hurting Levi. Big surprise there. Eren always managed to fuck things up, even when he wasn’t doing anything. He was just...off. Constantly. Every time Levi was with him, looking at his huge fucking dopey eyes, the hairs on the back of his neck just wouldn’t calm the hell down. He was always on guard. It took him the better part of their short year together to get used to it. But that was probably just another side effect of a traumatized past. Levi wasn’t stupid enough to deny he had issues. Some of them he worked on and was pretty much fine now. As for his lack of trust of anyone? Yeah, he was pretty sure that wasn't going to change. Not that it needed to, anyway. Being cautious wasn't a bad thing. And, that was probably why he was tense around Eren. And he should have listened to his gut back then. 

Although— 

Levi balled his fists as another gust of air ripped through him, derailing his train of thought. Plastic bags on the sidewalk rustled and fluttered about, floating through the air and leaking unknown fluids from their filthy wrinkles. The wind carried the unmistakable odor of Shiganshina’s natural musk: garbage, piss, and dash of shit. If he hadn’t spent the previous morning heaving over a toilet, he probably would’ve gagged. The wind refused to relent this time, blowing hard against him. He staggered forward, eyes narrowed. This walk wasn’t a good idea.  “Too fucking late to turn back now,” he said. It was his own fault he couldn’t sleep. He needed to make a decision and he hadn't yet. His nighttime thoughts were already chaotic, but adding a life-altering decision to the mix? 100% money-back guarantee for a sleepless night. At least he was most alert in the early hours. All the noise, the charade he put on every day—on these walks, they could all go straight to hell. He didn’t need to compromise what he wanted to do with what he was supposed to do. Just his true, visceral reactions to guide his judgment. Eren never had a charade. He always let Levi know exactly what he was thinking and trusted his gut more than his fucking brains. Still, the moron taught Levi something he would never have figured out on his own. Maybe it was a good thing to trust Eren. He came back. No one ever came back for him because no one ever wanted him. Hell, the Church’s were ready to ship him back to the goddamn orphanage after having him for barely three months. The only reason they didn’t was because it would ruin their most holy appearance.  

But Nanaba never had to come back. He never left in the first place. The idiot ran into the fucking fire he started to drag his sorry, suicidal ass out. Offered Levi a job and place to crash right before Social Services dumped him an hour from his hometown. For fuck’s sake, he made the trip to East Rose just to  _visit_ him on numerous occasions. He didn’t even have a motive. Didn’t want to take advantage of him. Always patient, even when Levi spat in his face and ran off. He was just...there. Loyal. He was a good man. 

He was the family Levi deserved. 

But family never did bode Levi anything well. And as good Nanaba was, Levi just...wasn’t. Nanaba never raised his voice at Levi, except during their little squabble yesterday. He was selfless. He helped Levi get his shit together when he finally ran away, nothing more than another orphan the system failed. Levi would have to be a goddamn idiot or the pathetic liar Father tried to beat out of him in order not to see Nanaba’s devotion. But it was too much and Levi just couldn’t fucking take it. Nanaba was too good a person to see the filth Levi carried with him for what it was. He only knew his mask. He didn’t know the thoughts always tumbling through his fucking head. Levi saw the shock in his eyes when he gutted that girl’s hand.  He didn’t know what he could be, what he was capable of doing. Nanaba wasn't strong; he would run if he knew the things he did. The things that made him warm. How his family really died. 

Would Eren?  

Levi ground to a stop. His headache throbbed in his temples as he clenched his teeth to stop his chattering teeth. Fucking hell, he needed to sit down. The stabbing pains in his knees alone were too much, not to mention the needle-like prickles in his shins only the wintry air could aggravate. Honestly? Fuck the cold. Levi sniffled as he steadily sunk to the sidewalk, opting to just sprawl and let the little rocks in the crumbling cement bite into his frozen hands. The pain was centering yet ironic; he couldn't come back here without some pain, could he? Levi snorted. Just the thought would probably turn Father over in his empty casket. Levi glanced down at his legs before looking out in front of him. He’d definitely have to wash these pants before he wore them again now. Who knew what diseases he’d just pick up by sitting down? 

Levi sighed, his momentary bought of humor gone. He didn’t need the moonlight to know where he was, but another strong gust of wind shifted the clouds and exposed the sidewalk. A vacant space loomed before him. Hard decisions always brought him back to this lot. He hadn't been back since the night of Mrs. Church's death but it barely changed. No one rebuilt on the land. No one bothered to clean up the burned wooden remains either, but it seemed like Mother Nature took care of that for the most part. Now, the only thing lingering were weeds and bricks. An occasional pipe jutted out of the ground. People took what they needed over time, and Levi didn’t blame them. Times hadn’t changed for the better in the sixteen years since the fire. He could almost hear a voice calling to him. Mikasa’s, probably. 

_Welcome home, Levi._  

It wasn’t good to be back. 

Levi closed his eyes as the memories washed over him. Every door slam, every scream, every lash. His eyes darted about under his eyelids, watching each scene play out as it always did. Home is where your heart is. He was pretty sure that’s how the saying went. This place was his home. 

He was lying to himself. Again. He knew his own bullshit too well. Maybe B.K.S. knew about it too. This whole debate he orchestrated as if he was actually struggling with a decision. This is why Levi loved these morning time walks. Sometimes he believed the charade too much. But that's all it was—a charade. The real Levi knew what he wanted. A selfless man or a selfish man? There was never even a fucking contest. All of this walk, trying to convince himself out of it. Why did he even do it? Easy. He wasn't the same man. He changed. He wasn't supposed to be able to choose a friend's death so easily. But Levi couldn't stop the smile tugging at his lips as he clenched his hands into fists. The truth was so obvious. Clear as fucking day! Of all places to be at four in the morning, he was here, wasn't he? Still looking for something he lost in the fire. 

Levi didn't know how long it took for him to open his eyes, but the moon was shrouded behind clouds again when he did. The lot was black. The wind stilled. The city noise was too far away to be heard. His thoughts finally fell silent as he came to the same understanding he reached all those years ago. His heart was here, burned and forgotten in this unmarked grave like the rest of the Ackerman’s secrets. Levi stood up. It was time to go back. 

His decision was made. 

-!@#$%^&*()-

The door chimed as Levi walked into the Grotto at noon, fully aware his shift started at nine. It didn't matter. No one fucking came into the shop until 12:30 on Sundays and there was no way in Hell he was going to pull off a ten-hour shift on four scattered hours of sleep. Hanji wasn’t going to be there anyway so who really gave a shit? As he rounded a bookcase’s corner, he paused to take in Eren sitting on the cashier's desk sporting a frown and crossing his arms. If he started reprimanding him, Levi was going to turn around and leave his two-week notice on his way out. Eren opened his mouth but froze, eyes wide as he took in Levi's appearance. Yeah, take a damn good look. If the somehow darker bags under his eyes, pale skin, and gaunt expression didn’t give him away, his wrinkled shirt would. 

“Are you—" 

“Finish that question and I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass, you’ll be shitting out of your mouth for weeks." Levi's glare did not lessen, even as Eren shut his mouth. Smart kid. “Don’t ask questions you know the goddamn answers to.”  

“To which,” Eren said. 

“What?” 

“To which I know the goddamn answers.” Eren smiled. “That’s proper English.” 

“Didn't realize you jacked off to your English degree,” Levi said as he trudged forward behind the desk and plopped down on the padded stool. He reached for the weird tan apron that was his uniform and tied it around his neck. He’d tie the waist string when he could stand again. The frigid wind hadn’t relented since the morning hours and his legs were fucking killing him. He probably should’ve used his old cane to walk down but of course, it was lost to fucking time somewhere in his house. 

“You're cold and tired. That's why your grumpier than usual,” Eren said as he swiveled around to face Levi. Gross. Now there’d be ass streaks on the polish, and he’d have to wipe it down. Again. Goddammit, Eren. 

“Your powers of observation leave me quaking.” Levi sniffled as he crammed his hands under his arms and rested his head against the wall behind him, glaring at Eren through narrow slits. At least the shitty lighting in the shop didn't aggravate his head. The stupid headache only worsened after he made it to his house, intensifying around his left eye and temple. 

“You know I don't like when you're a smartass.” Eren sighed but cut himself off as he perked back up. “Do you want hot chocolate or something? Or wait!” He bit his bottom lip as he began to think. Levi’s eyelid twitched. Eren could be so fucking endearing. “If I remember correctly, you love black tea.” Levi’s eyes widened. Oh fuck, he hadn’t a cup in so long. A nice steaming cup of black tea would just hit the spot, especially after a day as shitty as his. “Although, I don’t have any tea upstairs.” 

Levi sighed. Leave it to Eren to raise his hopes and crush them within the same breath with a smile on his stupid face. “What do you mean by upstairs? Do you live here?” 

“Well, I meant my studio where I work. But, I already told you I live next door.” Eren flashed another smile and scratched his ear. Too fucking endearing. 

“That reminds me,” Levi said. “What do you even do here? You barely leave your studio.” 

“Not fair! I asked you a question first!” 

Levi rolled his eyes. “I’ll drink hot chocolate. I’d prefer tea, though.” 

“Okay!” Eren hopped off the desk and jogged over to the staircase. “I’ll be back in like, two minutes. Actually, make that five.” Levi snorted. He wasn't sure when the glare melted off his face but he was smirking. He was still freezing and his legs ached, but Eren always made him feel a little warmer inside. Levi patted his front pants pocket. The picture was still where he placed it this morning. It wasn't too late to change the picture... He'd just have to grab the other one off his nightstand and— No. He figured it out. He went back home. He had to stick to his decision, dammit. If losing him didn’t make something click into place in his fucked-up head, then he’d have bigger problems to worry about than the letters of some serial killer. A series of thumps snatched Levi’s attention. Eren came stomping down the stairs, two red mugs in hand and a manic grin plastered on his face. 

“Slow down, dumbass!” Levi said. “You’re going to spill the drinks all over the carpet.” 

“That’s why I have a gallon of bleach upstairs,” Eren said. In only a few strides, he crossed the room, placing both mugs on the desk before climbing up again. “I had to sneak into Hanji’s office for these. He always hoards hot chocolate packets when winter comes around but lucky for me, I know how to pick locks. I don’t need his spare key. Besides,” Eren lifted both mugs again and offered one to Levi. "We both know who really runs this store." 

Levi snorted before sitting up and eying the drink. Eren didn't put any whipped cream on it. Looks like he was still good for at least two things. He accepted the mug with a nod. The ceramic nearly burned his hand but he only grasped the rim tighter.  “Hanji's a hardass; you'll be fired if he finds out.” 

“So will you if he finds out you don’t come in on time when he’s not here.” A beat passed. Touché. Levi didn’t say anything as he lifted his mug to his lips, still staring into Eren’s eyes as he mirrored his movement. The agreement didn’t need to be said. Damn. Levi had to admit, the brew was good. The chocolate’s sweetness was mellowed but that was fine. Still, there was another flavor hidden in it. Shit. Eren made the drinks and he did it alone upstairs. Levi lowered his mug and peered inside as if the hidden poison would just float to the top. 

“What’d you put in my drink?” 

“Oh, for god’s sake, Levi,” Eren said around the rim of his mug. 

“ _Eren_.”

“I just put a peppermint stick in, that’s all! I’m not trying to drug you,” Eren said with a roll of his eyes. “You’ve got to be less paranoid, sheesh! As if I would do something like to you!” 

“You did it before.” 

“Eh, it was just so you could sleep through the night.” 

“Mmhmm. Sure.” Levi stared at Eren before taking another sip. At least the drink was warming his body. His fingers throbbed as the nerves inside awakened. His chest was warm again. His nipples finally softened under his shirt; they were starting to chafe a bit. The wind blew outside, its low moans audible only in the silence. The clock ticked. Levi slurped his hot chocolate. The drink was easing his headache. Thank fuck; he was probably just dehydrated. Eren placed his mug on the desk, his eyebrows lightly scrunched together. So much for the peace.

“Levi,” Eren said. He glanced up.  Eren’s eyes sparkled but something akin to concern laid within them. What the hell did he want to talk about now? “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here for you and I’m not leaving.” 

Levi rolled his eyes. That was rich.  _Again. I’m not leaving again is what you should say, dipshit._

“Ugh, don’t you have things to do in your studio—which, for the record, you’ve avoided telling me about. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” Levi said as he placed his mug beside Eren’s. “And telling you anything implies I trust you—which I don’t.” Cute words weren’t going to win him over that easy. 

“I have nothing to do. The skin is still in the soaking stage, so I’m free for now. And besides, you’re the one who restarted this relationship,” Eren pointed out as he stuck a finger in Levi’s face. “That means you trust me on some level.” 

“No, that means I’m giving your sorry ass a chance to rebuild the trust you broke.” He swatted Eren’s hand away. 

“You trusted me to make you hot chocolate!” 

“Yeah and you still put something else in without telling me,” Levi said. “You don’t have a very good track record here.” Eren let out a huff. 

“Listen, Levi.” His stupid little grin was nowhere to be found. Instead, his eyes were fixed on him. Dark teal bore into Levi's eyes, reading every inch of him, and Levi couldn’t look away. Eren pinned him to his spot. “I want you to relax around me like you used to. I want to cuddle with you and exchange all our secrets in the dead of night. I want to wake up to your grumpy face and have a bowl of cereal together on the couch. I want to cut your hair forever and run my fingers through it as you’re sleeping. I only want you and I’m not going to stop until I have all of you.” 

What? Levi’s stomach churned as his hands began to tremble. He couldn’t be serious, right? But his eyes... They were wide and bright. Eren was too fucking earnest for his own good. Bile rose in the back of his throat as his eyes began to prickle. Shit, the hot chocolate was a bad idea—he was definitely going to throw up again. Levi clenched his teeth and swallowed down the rising vomit. This didn’t make any fucking sense. No one wanted him. He wasn’t stupid; he was too damaged for anyone to want him. That was obvious. So why would Eren say something like that? Levi shook his head and swallowed around a large lump in his throat. Fuck, he was probably sweating now. His neck was burning and his clothes were too constricting on his skin. It was all too fucking much! He just needed to cool off. Needed some air. Needed to run away. 

Wait a damn second. No, no, no!Some soft words weren’t going to do this to him! This was Eren, the lying bastard who said all the right things and left anyway. It didn't matter if Eren was serious, he still betrayed him. But... Levi curled his trembling hands into fists. Why did Eren always know exactly what to say at the worst times? He was  _lying_. Levi knew he was. But he still wanted it. Still clung to the idea that maybe Eren was genuine this time. It didn’t sound too bad either. He wanted to let his guard down with someone. Let someone take care of him. He was so  _tired_ of living like this. Always bored. Always alone. Always faking everything. It was so fucking annoying. Eren wasn’t going to stop. He never did. Maybe he should just pull him close. Just say fuck it and trust him with everything. But, if Eren wanted him so much, then—

“Why did you leave me?” Levi didn’t expect the roughness coating his voice. It was so uncertain, so weak, but he wasn’t done yet. More words just flowed out, the dam finally breaking, releasing waves of pent-up frustration. “And don’t give me that school bullshit. I told you I couldn’t leave my job to follow you, not that I wouldn’t fucking be there for you. We were  _something_. Call it happy or in love or whatever the fuck you want because I sure as hell don’t know. You cast it all behind you in one instant and didn’t even leave a fucking note, much less a word to my fucking face.”

Eren reeled back. A flicker of something crossed his face but it was too quick for Levi to read. All he saw were wide eyes, high eyebrows, and an open mouth. For once, Eren was searching for words. "Levi...did you—?" 

The chime of the store bell interrupted them. Eren frowned but swiveled around and jumped off the counter anyway, straightening out his apron and pretending to tidy a nearby shelf of books. Levi merely pulled out a rag and cleaner he kept in the desk's drawer and began to disinfect where Eren sat on it. He scrubbed hard at the wood, forcing the jitteriness in his hands to subside. There went that conversation. He wasn't going to try and bring it back up when the customer left either. He was too unstable. He almost gave in to the voice he swore to ignore. That couldn’t happen—wouldn't happen. Not anymore. Levi kept his head down, staring at the wood. Eren could deal with the customer first. His forehead pulsed as he shut his eyes momentarily. The cold always brought so much pain. But then again, the heat wasn’t any better.  

“Welcome to the Pressman’s Grotto. How can I help you?”

“Excuse me, I need to have a word with the cashier.” Oh. Yippee. Levi looked up at the customer, glare set on his face and mask of apathy in place. He was wearing a stupid khakis trench coat and his usually pristine golden hair was blown to hell. Good. Serves him right, that annoying asshole. Levi was kind of surprised he hadn’t sought him out yet, as he always did when something troubled his precious police department. “Levi,” Erwin Smith said, disgust dripping off his tongue. 

“Erwin.” Levi didn’t bother hiding his own contempt for the blond bastard. “What are you harassing me for this time?”

“Does the name Ian Dieter mean anything to you?”  

“No.” 

Ah, excuse me, sir,” Eren said, walking up behind Erwin. “You’re going to have to—”

“What about Christa Lenz?” Completely ignored. Levi couldn’t keep the smirk off his face at Eren’s surprised eyes. Aww, someone wasn’t used to being ignored. 

“No.” 

“Where were you Thursday night?” 

“Thursday?” Levi hummed as he continued scrubbing the desk, pausing only to move his and Eren’s hot chocolates. “Let’s see, I was out with him,” Levi said and jabbed a thumb in Eren’s direction, “until seven or eight. Then I went home, collapsed on the couch, woke up a few hours later and threw up everything from the past week it seemed. I also shat three times earlier that day. Should I describe their shapes for you since you’re asking stupid, invasive questions anyway?” Erwin curled his lip. 

“You’re as charming as your father.” Erwin pulled out a notepad and flipped through it, skimming the pages. He didn’t see Levi’s hand clench in his cleaning rag. “Are you sure you collapsed on your couch?”

“Positive,” Levi said as he threw the rag back in the desk and slammed the drawer shut. The wood polish gleamed, even in the store’s shitty lighting. 

“Well, according to your neighbor, Mrs. Brenda Morana, you’ve got a tendency to prowl the neighborhood at,” he glanced at his notes again, “three in the morning.”

“And what, that suddenly means I’m a criminal?” Levi chuckled and reached to pick up his mug. “You’re fishing like you always do, Erwin, only this time it’s just pathetic.” Erwin lunged forward, grabbing hold of Levi’s wrist and latched onto it. His grip was too tight, too heavy. It was like he was wearing them again. The shackles. The closet. Father. Levi breathed out his nose with a sharp breath. This was the Asshole-in-Chief of the SPD. Father was dead. He had no shackles now, just an ignorant man grabbing hold of him. 

“You’re so arrogant, Levi, but I know what you did and you’re not getting away with it,” Erwin said. He tightened his grasp on Levi’s wrist, blue eyes shining with hate. 

“Get your fucking hand off me. Now.” Levi didn’t waver his eyes from Erwin’s. The intimidation tactic didn’t faze Levi anymore. If anything, it only made him want to carve Erwin’s pretty boy eyes out and stomp on them until they were little more than a pulpy mash of muscle, blood, and ink on the soles of his shoes. Eren didn’t bring spoons with the hot chocolate but that was fine; he had a pen in the drawer. If he got it fast enough, he could blind at least one eye. Finally, teach this smug prick a lesson about how Levi really grew up. What his father was really like. 

“That’s enough,” a firm voice said. Levi’s mouth twitched. This was new. Eren never saw Erwin conduct one of his ‘Blame-Levi-for-This-Crime' interrogations. Oh, goody. Eren walked up to Erwin and placed a hand on his shoulder. The action was simple, but every fiber of Levi’s being was screaming at him to get away. Erwin was probably shitting himself. “I’m the manager on duty today and I won’t tolerate you coming in here and harassing my cashier.” 

“Do you know who I am?” Erwin said, eyebrows drawn together. 

“You’re just another disgraced former Commander of the failed Shiganshina Police Department. The Chief fired and replaced you with Commissioner Rico.” Erwin narrowed his eyes and shrugged off Eren’s hand. Eren didn’t bother putting it back. The threat was clear. “But frankly speaking, I don’t give a damn who you were. Right now, you’re just a disrespectful customer in my shop. I don’t have time for people like you.” 

Erwin’s frown deepened. “I have more questions for Levi—” 

“I really don’t care.” The frown on Eren’s lips faded as he stared at Erwin. The darker tones in his eyes swallowed any light as he leaned forward, making his face eye-level with Erwin’s. “Get out of my shop. Now.” The darkness in his eyes contrasted the calm painting his face. Shit. Levi sucked in a quiet breath. He never saw Eren this angry before; he was like a different person. Levi couldn’t look away. 

Erwin clenched his jaw but said nothing as he let go of Levi and backed away from the desk. Levi was too fixated on Eren to notice. Eren kept his eyes on Erwin, following him as he made his way from the aisle and out the door with a soft jingle. The wind blew the door back as Erwin walked out, bringing a chill into the store. It’d close eventually. The fuck just happened? Levi collapsed back on his stool, leaning his head against the wall and watching Eren through the slits of his glare. He was officially done with everything for today. Eren eyed the door once more before turning around and looking over to Levi. 

“Sorry, you had to see that. How are you feeling? That guy had a strong grip.” Eren brushed his fingers against Levi’s wrist. His touch was so light and precise. So warm. So good. “I hope this won’t bruise,” he said as he lifted Levi’s wrist to his lips for a quick kiss.   

“I’m fine,” Levi said. It was a lie. It was always a lie. “I’m just tired from all this bullshit.” He tugged his hand out of Eren’s grasp and reached over for his mug. 

Eren hummed. “I get that. I have to go check something upstairs. I’ll be back later.” Levi watched Eren retreat upstairs. “Call me if Erwin comes back!” Guess they weren’t working together anymore. Good. Or at least, it was supposed to be. Levi closed his eyes. He didn’t need to think about this. Not now, at least. 

Levi raised his mug and took another sip. It was cold. 

-!@#$%^&*()-

Levi trudged home at 10:20, picture delivered and his mind clear. He just wanted to sleep, ignore the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He could shower in the morning. He rammed his shoulder into his door, only blinking at the ungodly shriek of protest it let out. Brenda would have a field day tomorrow, ranting away to him about that goddamn door. He hoped she choked on her dentures. Or maybe he’d slit her throat, save someone else the trouble. 

Levi paused. Fuck. Where did that come from? He was just tired. He’d been running on fumes for too long. He was different now. Things were different now. Yeah, that was all there was to it. Levi continued walking to the kitchenette, leaving the pomegranate Eren gave him during lunch on the island. He’d eat it later. Levi walked into his bedroom. He had tomorrow off, probably should start on his laundry. Yeah, that was a good idea. Levi yanked his shirt off and tossed it on the floor, his pants soon to follow. It was fine if they weren’t folded; he was going to wash them tomorrow. Wait. Shit, he had to prep the house for winter tomorrow too. Dammit. There went his weekend. 

Levi crawled into bed and pulled his shitty resewn blanket up to his chin. He rolled over to look at the time. 10:32. B.K.S. probably got his answer by now. Tomorrow morning would be...interesting. The light of his clock shone over the picture on his nightstand. He couldn’t help but look. Eren’s stupidly happy face pressed against his own. Those times would come again soon. Hopefully. Levi rolled over and shut his eyes. Time to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're winding down, folks. Thanks for 1,000 hits!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> triggers: talk about suicide, a suicide attempt, blood, slight gore but not really.   
> Read at your own discretion.

Chapter 11

            “Yes, yes, _yes, ahh!_ More! Harder, hard— _AHH!_ ”

Armin swallowed back the rising bile in his throat. He spent so little time in his room, he forgot exactly why he did so. It was a disgusting, but due, reminder. He crammed his earphones deeper into his ears, but it merely muffled the sound rather than snuff it out. Morning sex? Couldn’t these people be considerate of their neighbors, even once? He needed a cheap place to stay and certainly got it; calling the paper-thin divider between him and his loud neighbors a wall would be lying. He should have realized, the cheap motels in Shiganshina were only for the prostitutes who worked near them.  He needed to find a new motel soon if he wanted to keep what little patience and sanity he had left.  The woman next door let out another shriek. “For God’s sake.” Armin wrinkled his nose and turned up the volume of a jazz playlist from Spotify. He glanced at the time before locking his screen: 6:15. He had a little more than an hour to focus on his own investigation before running down to the station. Armin pulled out his worn leather notebook and turned to the most frequented page as of late. 

Dr. Hanji Zoe. Male, 45 years old, single and lives alone. Full-time professor at Sina University with a side job at The Pressman’s Grotto, a bookstore specialized in rebinding and recovering old books as well as reselling hundreds of old and gently used books. Teaches psychology and apparently offers an internship to his favorite students. Armin ran a hand through his hair; this sounded like his Wikipedia page. The Sina Police Department probably had more information, but he couldn’t send for their records without the written consent of his Commissioner. The last thing he needed right now was Rico poking about his business. The internet was about as helpful as a dead man about the doctor’s past, and every review about him was positive. He only had one more trail to follow now. He sighed and reached for Dr. Hanji’s records. With all the chaos two weeks ago with Erwin getting fired and Rico taking over, not to mention the mass murder and Isabel, no one noticed there was a missing file, or that he was the one who stole it. But on the flip side, he barely had time to sleep, let alone glance through it. He couldn’t keep it for much longer. If anyone actually did their job in Records and reported it missing to Rico, he’d be suspended. Armin looked at the manila folder a moment longer. This was a crime. He was about to create his own criminal record by opening this one. The ends would justify his means. Releasing a final breath, Armin flipped through the file. There weren’t many pages in it. Couple speeding tickets. Expired inspection sticker tickets. A complaint about animal abuse. Nearly an entire page of parking violation tickets.

Wait.

Armin flipped back a page. A neighbor to the shop sent in a complaint about seeing two disturbingly emaciated dogs being ushered into the side apartment adjacent to the shop, but she never produced any pictures of the incident. Dr. Hanji pushed back against the allegations, claiming he found them abandoned in the alley and was only trying to give them a place to rest and drink before taking them to the shelter. The rest of the page moved on to another driving infraction. Armin furrowed his brow. This was filed in May, only six months ago. Why wasn’t this investigated? Armin jotted down a note about the complaint in his own notes. He didn’t know much about Dr. Hanji, but animal abuse was almost always a red flag. And to have a report this close to the start of a spree of killings… This wouldn’t look good for the doctor. Armin turned the page and continued his scan. There were only a few more pages, but they were all more driving infractions. It had to be a miracle this man still had a license. Hopefully, Eren never got in a car with Dr. Hanji.

Armin closed the file and tossed it to the other side of his bed. He flipped a few pages back in his notebook and rolled his pencil between his teeth as he mulled over the new additions from Historia: Eren was working with Dr. Hanji. Possibly. He had no idea where Dr. Hanji’s interns stayed. Eren could be living in Sina and commuting like the doctor, or he might live in any one of these shoddy apartments. How long was this internship anyway? Was it just a summer thing? November was already nearing its end. If Eren already left, he’d be back at square one and marooned in this slum. He’d been back to visit Isabel every day the past week for hours at a time, but he didn’t have time to stay and ask Historia to explain what she said. It was like finding a needle in a haystack only this time, there were two haystacks to look through, and they were also two hours apart from each other.

He needed to go to the Grotto as soon as possible. If Eren was still working there, he could just talk to Dr. Hanji, ask for his next shift, and surprise him with a visit. It’d been such a long and lonely five years without his best friend. But how was he going to even find the time to visit the store? He looked up the hours before, but they were so erratic, changing almost daily. By using all his overtime hours, he’d never be able to drop by the store when they were open. Working every minute of the day was wearing him out faster than he would’ve liked to admit. He was pretty sure he had dark eyebags now. He bit down on his pencil. He could always ask the Commissioner for some time off. Armin snorted and dropped the pencil into his hand. Sure, like she would blindly give him time off after he embarrassed her by running to the S.P.D.

Armin leaned back against the headboard. Drained coffee cups cluttered his nightstand while papers littered his bed. He needed to clean this place up. Maybe stop drinking so much caffeine too. Old coffee, dirty laundry, a mustiness from the carpet floor, and the lingering fragrance of lavender wafted through the stagnant air. The Febreze could only do so much. Ugh, he needed a shower. Closing his notebook, Armin tossed it in his messenger bag and climbed off his bed, pulling off his headphones at the same time. Rhythmic slapping and loud grunts of pleasure coming from the other side of the wall filled his ears again. Armin glanced at the clock: 7:30.

Time to get ready for the day.

-!@#$%^&*()-

            “It’s fucking freezing out there!” Jean tossed his coat over the back of his chair as he balanced a tray of coffees in his other hand. “I swung by a gas station near the East Rose border and got some coffee for everyone.”

            “Thanks,” Ymir said as she stood up from her crowded desk and swiped a cup for herself. “I doubt it’ll actually do anything, but maybe Shiganshina will prove me wrong.” She smirked and took a sip before spitting it back into the cup and dumping it in the trash. “Ugh, it’s just as shitty as I thought it’d be!”

“Think you guys can be a little less obnoxious?” Armin said as he strolled in from the break room, a banana in hand, and slipped into his desk chair. “You’re here just like the rest of us—deal with it.”

            Jean let out a laugh as he walked over to Armin’s desk, placing a coffee down with enough force to spill some of its contents. Jesus, were they all filled to the very brim? Armin cursed as he scrambled to move the documents too close to the puddles. “That’s rich coming from you, Armin. See,” Jean leaned down, leveling a glare, “not everyone here was cool with upending their lives for who knows how long to come live in a crime infested dump. Some of us actually have people we care about; you know, like a family. Well,” Jean’s cold eyes trailed up and down Armin’s body. “Maybe not everyone.” Armin glared up at Jean. That was a low fucking blow, and Jean knew it. He has a family; he was just missing with barely a trace.

            “Alright, alright, quit your pissing contest and get back to work,” Ymir said from her desk as she slapped a thick case file on a pile of equally thick folders to her right. “I can’t concentrate with all your bickering.”  

            “Don’t bother, Lieutenant,” Commissioner Rico said as she opened her office door. Jean straightened from hovering over Armin as their boss made her way towards them. She walked down the center aisle, a notepad and a thin file under her hand. Of course, not a button was out of place. Even her hair was perfectly in line, jostling only because of her stride. “It’s time for a checkpoint. I want to know every last detail of the information you’ve gathered. Don’t leave anything you’ve researched out,” her eyes flickered over to meet Armin’s for a brief moment. “We need a lead by the end of the week or the Chief takes action. Detective Leonhardt, you’ll start.”

            A deeper glare than usual rested on Annie’s face as she stood. Her hair’s usual luster faded after the second night she slept at her desk. Her bloodshot eyes and their bags cradling them were prominent as well. Armin hoped he didn’t look too much like her. They both kept each other company during their various all-nighters over the past few days. “Sergeants Reiner of Identification and Bertolt of Evidence reviewed the remains of the victims and the case details. We got a general profile set up but it’s rough ‘round the edges; new perspectives will do it some good.” Annie grabbed a yellow notepad off her desk.

“Alright. Based on the physical state of the victims, we know B.K.S. is a methodical, organized killer. On the first three victims, he gagged them and severed the body at the neck, shoulder, elbow, hips, and knee joints while they were alive. But, the victims from the warehouse are a little different. The autopsy reports indicate they were all asphyxiated even though there aren’t any signs of struggle on the body or bruises on the throat to suggest strangulation. We suspect they may have been drugged or poisoned with carbon monoxide in order for the killer to incapacitate them all at once. The times of death change for groups of people roughly on the same interval, so we also think this was an intentional plot to get people together, suffocate them, and cut them up. The intention and meticulous planning and execution to kill so many most likely has us dealing with a high-functioning psychopath.”

            “High-functioning?” Ymir scrunched her eyebrows. “As opposed to what, a low-functioning one?”

            “There’s a difference,” Annie said, “and it’s important. A higher functioning psychopath is always harder to find ‘cause they’re able to control their impulsivities better and keep themselves from any connections to their victims. Basically, the ones you never suspect: the old friend from college, the neighbor who lends you flour, the friendly librarian, etc. A low-functioning psychopath wouldn’t be able to control their impulses and urges as well; they might get a bit sloppy with their plans and be known to have issues.” Friendly librarian? Did bookstore managers count under that group? Armin swallowed around a newfound lump in his throat. Bookstore managers with a flawless record and only one accusation of animal abuse might fall under that group.

Dammit.

            “Also sounds like they’re controlling,” Jean said, sitting on his desk with crossed arms. “The killer goes through all these plans and challenges to get their victims. It’s safe to say they like puzzles and watching people navigate the ones they make. Not to mention, the whole thing about posing dead bodies—that’s a big indicator of a want or need for control.” Ymir nodded as Annie scribbled down Jean’s words.

            “They’re dramatic too,” Ymir said. “His murder victims are always displayed in public. Average street people always call them in. Probably likes all the attention on him.”

            “What else?” Rico said, a frown tugging at her lips. Her piercing eyes shifted to Jean. “What have you produced?”

            “I’ve been trying to identify a motive with little luck.” He placed his coffee cup down and crossed his arms. “But I can tell he isn’t some alley rat doing tricks for money. If greed had anything to do with this, he would’ve chosen wealthier victims or robbed the victims of their valuables. On or by every scene, we’ve recovered jewelry and the victim’s wallets, cards and cash inside untouched—no one looking for money would leave those alone. I’d say B.K.S. is looking for attention if anything.” But why would someone go on a killing spree this large for attention? A fewer number would suffice.

            Armin frowned. “What if they’re blatantly trying to humiliate the police?”

            “If we were to think of the police, S.P.D. in particular, it’d be so easy. Erwin already got fired, half the staff is from the main station in Trost, and the killer’s got thirty victims in the ground before we have even the slightest lead. But, I never mentioned the police; they could like the media attention. There’s nothing to report in Shiganshina other than crime and new gangs springing up. With B.K.S., that all changes. The killings are graphic, frequent, and grabs media attention.” The Commissioner raised a hand to rub at her temples. “If they’re media, I say we look at questionable reporters or anyone who used to cover Shiganshina. If they’re after the cops, I’d look for someone who had a feud with the department.”

            “I’m not going to limit the scope of our investigation based on speculation. We don’t have any evidence to fully support either of those theories,” she said and dropped her hand to her side. “We need to know more before jumping to conclusions. Lieutenant; what do you have?”

            “Nothing yet,” Ymir said. “I’ve been studying each point of dismemberment and they all look nearly surgical. Very clean and professional, but not as clean as they could be by a real surgeon. Maybe someone with access to a surgeon or someone who was in training. It reminded me of a case in Sina five years ago. I talked to the Chief over there and got the case files. Going through them is taking a while but I think I’m on to something. There are too many circumstances that are too similar to be coincidences.”  Commissioner Rico nodded along.

            “Great. Keep that trail going.” At last, the Commissioner turned her gaze to Armin. “What do you have?”

            “Nothing yet,” Armin said. “I’ve been going to talk with the victim but she’s too traumatized to speak.”

            “It’s been a week since I gave you that assignment, Detective.”

            “Yes, sir, I know, but she’s a victim of a murder attempt. I just need a little more time to work with her.”

            “I’m well aware of what she is, Detective. I’m also aware that B.K.S. stopped their rampage for a week, and that we don’t know when they’ll start again. I can’t have one of my detectives chasing a dead end. If you don’t have a story by 3:00, stop your efforts and put all of your focus back here, understand? That’s an order, Detective.” Armin glared at the floor.   
The Commissioner was right; they couldn’t afford to wait for Isabel to choose when she was ready to speak. “I want all this typed up into B.K.S.’s criminal profile,” the Commissioner said.  “Circulate the sheets and continue all leads concerning B.K.S. Dismissed.” Great. Armin stood from his chair as the others swiveled around and resumed their work. He had to make Isabel talk today, whether she wanted to or not. Armin clicked off his computer monitor and pulled his jacket off the back of his chair.

            “Headed out?” Armin nodded. Annie undid the scarf around her neck and held it out to him. “Forecast calls for flurries and wind.” Armin took the scarf and snaked it around his own neck. It was wool and scratchy, but warmer than his hoodless windbreaker.

            “Thanks,” Armin said and continued walking towards the door.

-!@#$%^&*(-

_This is ridiculous._ Armin shoved his hands under his armpits and burrowed deeper into Annie’s scarf as he walked to the clinic. At least his legs weren’t as numb since he was walking, thanks to the twenty-two-minute-late bus. The weather had been in a comfortable lull of the mid-50s, so why did it have to tank all of a sudden? That cold, windy day two weeks ago seemed to remind the weather it was late fall. The temperatures only dropped since then, and soon his thin long-sleeved button downs weren’t going to be enough anymore, with or without the jackets. Armin glared at nothing in particular as he stomped down the block, dry hands crammed into the very seams of his underarms. It didn’t really make much a difference when the wind blew, but he could pretend. Little flurries nicked his cheeks as a sharp gust of icy air stabbed through his windbreaker, rustled his hair, and nibbled his ears.

            Armin huffed out a breath and watched it crystallize as he marched up the stoop and wrenched the clinic door open. Warmth smacked him as he walked in. A smile grew on his face as he dried his feet on the entrance mat. “Hello, Detective.” He didn’t need to look up to know Historia was in her usual seat behind the counter. “You’re here early today.”

Armin shed his jacket and scarf and placed them both on the nearby coat hanger. He ran a hand through his locks, attempting and probably failing to redo the part and style blown to hell in the wind. He should probably buy a hat soon too; his ears were like little ice cubes every time he touched them. He folded his arms before walking to the front desk, shivers wracking his arms and legs with every passing second. Historia stood as he grew closer, clutching a steaming mug in hand. Didn’t quite smell like chocolate but there were a few hints of it in the air. Warm milk? Tea? Armin rolled his eyes; it didn’t matter. He needed to see Isabel. Warm drinks could come second. “My boss wants me to wrap up this lead.” Historia’s eyes widened as her brow scrunched together.

“But, Isabel could really help you guys find a clue!”

“Trust me, I know.” Armin said. “We just don’t have the manpower to keep expending on her. This might be the last time we meet.”

            Historia sighed. “She still hasn’t said anything, has she?” Armin shook his head as he ran a hand through his hair. “I hope you can get something out of her. I’m not a total stranger to the way cops operate; you’ll probably get shit if you don’t bring back something worthwhile, right?” No shit. If he didn’t get anything from Isabel, Rico would probably demote him and move him down to Records. “Alright,” Historia said as she swung the ring of keys around her finger. He’d never seen her actually use them before. Maybe there were for the front desk? “Follow me, please.” Armin nodded and trailed behind the nurse as she led him to a familiar hall. The blinds were kept undrawn, despite the overcast sky. Thick, dark clouds blocked any sunlight, cloaking the hall in darkness. He could only hope there wouldn’t be a snowstorm before he could make it back to the motel.

            Historia knocked on the white door and turned the knob. “Isabel? The detective is here to see you again.” Armin pulled out his notebook and pen from his pocket and walked into the room. Isabel sat as she always did, blankets pulled up to her hips and back resting against the bedframe. Her hand rested in her lap, twitching like always. Lifeless eyes no longer bothered watching Armin cross the room and sit at his chair. Instead, they were trained on the windows, watching the wind force the gray clouds across the sky. 

            “Hello, Isabel,” Armin said wearily. As per usual, he was greeted in turn by silence. “This is my last day here. You’re probably glad. I mean,” he chuckled, “I would be. Finally, this annoying guy is taking the hint, right? But, I’m just here for information. If you don’t say anything to me, I’ll be pulled off this case, and we’ll stop looking for the man who did this to you if he’s not our suspect. It’s entirely dependent on you at this point.” Armin’s stomach churned with every word that flowed from his lips. Guilt tripping victims for evidence was a new low for him, but it was far too easy. With every story he’d told Isabel, it wasn’t too difficult to track what made her flinch, made her react; dealing with guilt and regret was one of those. At the very least, if he left without hearing anything, she might feel the burden and come forth. It should’ve been Isabel’s right to tell him if and when she was ready, but that’s not what Rico wanted, not what could help identify B.K.S., and not what could help him find Eren.

            “Alright,” Armin said. He kept his eyes trained on Isabel’s. “I don’t have the slightest clue what’s going on in your brain. Maybe it’s shock, fear, or maybe you’re just being quiet in the hopes that I’ll leave sooner. Shock and fear are normal, and I can help you overcome them as you face them when you tell me what happened to you.” Isabel’s eyes still didn’t waver from the clouds. They were darting around, searching, and completely ignoring him. So, help wasn’t a good enough trigger. “Is your inability to care really worth the lives of other people?” Isabel turned her head, her eyes finally meeting his own. “If I don’t get your account, they’re not going to send anyone else. Let’s say your assaulter was B.K.S.; you _met_ this killer and _lived._ You, a teenager of no particular talent or skill, survived an ordeal thirty-some other adults didn’t. If you don’t say anything, countless others won’t be as lucky as you.” Isabel breathed a small huff before turning back to the clouds.

            Dammit! Armin grit his teeth. Did she really not care? Was she that apathetic? Maybe he needed a different type of story. He just rattled her, maybe if he could just push her a bit more… “Listen,” he tried. “I know you’re a runaway. I know your parents are too strung out to care or probably notice. I know the only person you turned to for help dumped you at the S.P.D. on continued on their way.” Isabel’s hand flinched on the sheet. Good. “You were left behind and hurt. I get that. Remember my best friend? The one who ate pistachio ice cream with me and my grandfather? He stopped all contact with me one day five years ago. I have no idea why or what happened. He just dropped off the face of the Earth. I think I found him, here in a bookstore. He completely ignored me for five years without question or hesitation. He was my rock for so many hard times and he cast me aside like it was nothing, like _I_ was nothing. Trust me, I understand what it feels like to be hurt and abandoned and angry.”  He paused as a particularly dark cloud passed over the few streams of sunlight escaping, casting shadows over them. Still, nothing. “God, why don’t you care?” Armin said. “Why can’t you just tell me what happened? Why—”Armin widened his eyes.

             “Why do you want to be like your parents?”

Isabel flinched as if he hit her. She wielded around, eyebrows tightly knit and breathing heavy. Her hand clenched the sheets nearly hard enough to rip. He got her.  

            “You think you know me?” Isabel said, voice raspy. Her eyes weren’t watery in the slightest degree, only angry. “You only read what’s on a file. You don’t know a damn thing about me or my family! My parents died already, one needle too many. I ain’t stupid; I know they didn’t give a damn ‘bout me, but that don’t mean I’m anything like them!” Isabel looked away to the clouds again as she coughed as if speaking was becoming too much a strain. Armin looked around for some water, but there wasn’t any in the room.

“And who the fuck do you think you are? Tellin’ me your cushy life story in East Rose, and you expect me to think you know what it’s like to be hurt or abandoned? You dunno what it’s like for the best meal of your week to be the crusty-ass, wet bread and slightly moldy cheese you found from the dumpster out back. You dunno what it’s like to live here. You thought _you_ were abandoned? The fucking city don’t even care ‘bout what happens here, long as if it don’t hurt them too. This shithole kills everyone at some point. Lots of the prostitutes take their money an’ buy rope to string themselves up once they can’t take it anymore. Lots of runaways don’t make seventeen and not cause of some stray bullet. Anything that might’ve been good to you or good for you is just gonna poison you and eat away till there ain’t anything left. Leaves you all hollow inside.” Isabel didn’t flicker her eyes away from the window as she continued. Armin pulled out his notebook and flipped to a new page, pen poised and ready. Finally, he was getting something.

            “I’ve been hurt, abandoned, and angry since I was born. When you been like that so long, you get damaged. Ain’t a thing you can do to fix it; you just gotta ignore it. But I dunno,” Isabel clutched the bedsheet in her hand. “Maybe I was still too happy… I was lookin’ for food in this alley. I always raid it ‘cause sometimes there’s half-eaten sandwiches in there. Someone overpowered me and put me in some chokehold ‘cause I couldn’t turn my head. Must’ve passed out ‘cause next thing I know, I’m lying on a table, but I couldn’t move. My legs and arms were real heavy too. When I looked around to figure out where the hell I was, there was a bunch of these sheets of something stretched out with hooks. I don’t know what it was, but it looked creepy as fuck. On the other side of me, there was a big door open. There were a few bodies hanging in it. Felt colder on that side too so maybe it was a freezer.” She paused. Armin didn’t stop to look up as his hand flew across the pages, turning them viciously to keep up with Isabel’s words. She was probably staring out the window again. The bedsheets rustled.

            “A-A man finally came around. He was tall. Wore a surgical mask over his face. Hair under a cap. The scrubs were blue, like a doctor on TV. But his eyes…they were gray like the clouds today, real dark. Something really off about them too; they were just…there. Ain’t a single emotion in there, but they weren’t emotionless either. Just wide, blank eyes. Looked at me like I wasn’t there. He goes ‘You scream for help and you end up in the bus block like them,’ and pointed over to the bodies in that open door. It was like a fucking disclaimer. Then he actually looks at me, and his eyebrows dip like he’s annoyed or somethin’. Goes, ‘You’re too young. You get to walk out of here. Well, maybe not walk.’ A-And he put something’ over my nose for me to breathe. I woke up to screamin’ and realized it was me. My legs and arm were gone. He dumped me in that dumpster alley, but I never seen a place like where he took me. He didn’t drug me so I felt every pull of the stitches, an’ the fake pains in my feet. I dunno how the hell I made it here, but I reopened some of the stitches. Told the nurse ‘bout the bus once I remembered, but didn’t do much good did it? And now I’m here, wishing B.K.S. killed me when he had the chance.”

            Armin paused and looked up. Two steady flows of tears trailed down Isabel’s face and dripped onto her shirt. That was concerning. He needed to calm her down; he already got what he needed. “Why do you want to die?”

            Isabel whipped her head around, green eyes ablaze in fury and pain. “I can’t fucking live like this! How’s a homeless kid supposed to get ‘round without legs and an arm? I’ll fucking starve, an’ no one will give a shit. No one’s gonna pay for a prostitute lookin’ like a fucked-up pity party, and I don’t have the money to stay here!” Isabel’s bottom lip trembled as she shouted, tears falling even faster now. Shit, she was spiraling. Armin dropped his notebook as he eyed the girl. This wasn’t good at all. He just wanted to talk about her reasons, not empower them. “I never asked for this! I never wanted any of this, an’ I can’t leave this fucking _place_! If he couldn’t do it, then I’ll just finish the job for him!” Isabel twisted her arm and yanked the taped IV out. Blood immediately started beading from the wound. What was she— _shit!_ Armin leaped forward and grabbed hold of her wrist, but not before Isabel plunged the IV into the base of her neck and tried to drag it around. Blood spurted from the needle, splattering Isabel’s face and sheets, and trickled down her neck onto her chest.  

            “Isabel, stop! Stop! Historia! I need help!” Armin hoped the nurse could hear him over Isabel’s angry, rasping shouts to get off her. He had to save her, had to move. Armin wrenched the needle from her neck and pressed one hand against the gash while the other restrained her flailing arm. Shit, shit, shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He didn’t mean to cause any of this. He just wanted to talk her down, not push her…not this… He was too sweaty, tremors moving through his body. He was just supposed to press her.

_Grandpa? Are you ok—?_

No, no dammit. He didn’t need to remember that right now, but he could feel it come over him. His hand was slick with blood, just like when Grandpa fell and bashed the back of his skull in.

_Blood was pooling under his grandfather. His hand and bottoms of his jeans were splattered with blood and gore from the impact. The nurses ran to him on the floor, trying to save him. He wanted to help, but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but watch. He was paralyzed. Just watched the man who loved him bleed to death without moving a finger to help. Observe. Always observe._

 “Detective!” Armin shuddered as he came back to himself. He was on the floor beside the bed. Dammit! He fell into the memory again, he froze. And if he froze— _oh God, Isabel!_  Armin scrambled onto his feet and turned around. Historia managed to restrain Isabel’s arm with a belt attached to the bed, but the damage was done. Bleed oozed from the side of Isabel’s neck and a few gouges on the front. Isabel was limp, eyes closed, as Historia fumbled with securing her torso under a thicker belt.

            Isabel kept moving her lips, but barely any sound passed through them, just splutters of blood. “M-Mom-Momma. H-h-hurts, M-Mo-Momma.”

            “What the hell happened?” Historia said, snapping Armin out of his shock. She didn’t spare a glance Armin’s way, instead, focusing on stopping the blood with a pad of gauze. “What did you say to her?”

            “I-I just pressed her a little. I must’ve gone too far; believe me, I didn’t, and I would never, talk her into this at all,” Armin said. Historia’s mouth was pressed tightly into a line as she rolled her eyes.

             “Must’ve gone too far.’ What gave that away, Detective? A seventeen-year-old attempting suicide or seeing her completely relapse into a memory of her mother. Great job figuring that one out.” Historia tossed the dirtied gauze behind her as she reached for another clean one from her pocket.  “I mean, what the hell were you thinking to push her that hard? She’s a traumatized victim! Forcing the story out of her only adds to the trauma!”

            “Is she going to be okay?” Historia removed one hand from Isabel’s neck and raided through her pockets, retrieving a roll of gauze tape.

“I don’t know. She punctured her trachea multiple times, but at least she’s still breathing. She needs to go to the ER immediately.” Historia finished taping up the bloodied gauze and kneeled to unlock the bed wheels. “Even if she pulls through, who knows if she’s going to ever speak again.”

            “I needed her account,” Armin said, following Historia as she wheeled Isabel out of the room. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

            “Well, congratulations; you got it at the expense of her shattered life.” Historia rolled Isabel to the elevator and pressed the down button. The doors chimed and parted for her at once. After she rolled Isabel in and pressed another button, she turned her eyes to face Armin. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow this in my clinic, for your job or not. Please, don’t come back, Detective.”

 The doors slid shut and Armin was left alone. He ran a hand through his hair and tugged at the ends. He never meant for this to happen. He just wanted to find his missing friend. He had to know what happened to him, to their friendship. To do that, he had to follow Commissioner Rico’s orders, so she wouldn’t suspect him of stealing documents. Right? Armin turned and began to make his way out of the silent hallway. His job depended on getting Isabel’s account. Christ… He just hoped whatever he found about Eren would be worth all this.

He shoved open the door leading to the waiting room and headed for the coat stand. A shrill ring came from his pocket as he tossed on his thin jacket and draped his scarf around his neck. Armin fished his phone out and frowned at the name on the screen: Jean. Goddammit. He flipped the phone open and held it up to his ear. “Hello? This better be a damn good reason for interrupting me right now.”

            “Get down to the station as soon as you can.”

            “What happened? Is there a new victim?”

            “No, it’s good news for once,” Jean said. “Ymir’s lead followed through. We got something substantial now.”

            “Alright, I’m on my way.” Armin snapped his phone shut before Jean could reply. He slipped the phone back in his jacket pocket before he rewrapped Annie’s scarf around his neck. Two leads in one day? At least Rico would get off his back now. Armin tucked his hands into his pockets and pushed the outside door open, cold air cutting at his skin and raking through his hair.

-!@#$%^&*-

            Armin stumbled back into the station, sniffling hard while wringing his hands, and headed towards the group of people standing around Ymir’s desk, chief among them, Commissioner Rico.           

            “Oh, finally! Armin’s here,” Jean said as he rolled his eyes. “Took you long enough. What, did you get lost on the way back?”

            “Quiet, Lieutenant,” the Commissioner said. Jean followed her order, but his narrowed eyes did not relent. “Now that Detective Arlet has arrived, Sergeant Ymir can debrief us all.”

            “Thank you, Commissioner,” Ymir said. Something was off about her. Her eyes were hard and for once she wasn’t smirking. Good lord, she was serious. Armin fished out his notebook from his jacket pocket. Whatever Ymir found was going to be important. “I’ve been cross-referencing our files with those from Sina. I found similarities between a few cold cases, and they all link together too well to be chance, so I had a feeling it wasn’t. Turns out, I was right. We might be dealing with an experienced serial killer.” Ymir lifted up a picture from a stack on her desk. It was a crime scene. The victim was lying in a pool of blood, each limb severed from their torso. Only the head was missing. Armin looked at the picture closer. Wait, no; that wasn’t everything. With a muffled gasp, Armin started writing into his notebook. The body wasn’t just lying in a pool of blood. It was drenched in it.  A normal incision would bleed onto the ground, not over the entire limb, much less every limb.

“This picture is of the Sina Slasher’s first victim. The Sina Slasher was a serial killer in Sina about four years ago who targeted twelve University of Sina students over the course of a year. Cops never found the perp, so the case went cold. His style was dismemberment and pouring the victim’s blood over their body at the crime scene. Needless to say, it was gruesome and pretty shocking. His murders left the city pretty freaked out.

“Now,” Ymir placed the picture down on her desk again. “I think the Slasher left Sina and came to Shiganshina, adopted a new persona, and started killing again, this time under the name of B.K.S. I know, it sounds like a stretch and I don’t have any ideas as to why they’d do this, but just bear with me. Both killers were very active in their violent periods. Their killings are almost like sprees. B.K.S. murdered what, almost thirty people now and it’s only been a month since the first body was found. The Slasher murdered twelve people in one year on a college campus. There’s some speculation that the Slasher was a student at the time, but I didn’t really follow-up the claim; it seemed to be stemming primarily from true crime fanatics on Facebook.” Ymir lifted two more pictures from the stack on her desk. In her left hand was a picture of the woman found butchered near the library. Her right hand held a picture similar to the first she’d shown; a body was created on the ground, its severed limbs pieced together like some jigsaw puzzle, and drenched in blood. 

“Both of them dismembered their victims and had a particular method of presenting the corpses. B.K.S. is more particular with making the body one unit again, while the Slasher only ever arranged the body together again. They both made their disposal sites in public places, although B.K.S.’s are more public than the Slasher. But _this_ is the nail in the coffin,” Ymir said as she placed her pictures down to pick up the last two in her desk pile. Armin swallowed the wave of bile in his throat as he took in the pictures. Each of them was a close-up of the dismembered elbows. “I sent pictures to a forensic analyst, who sent them to the T.P.D. Medical Examiner. The incisions on B.K.S. and Slasher victims are almost identical. The cuts are very precise and clean, but B.K.S.’s look a bit more refined. So either our guy went to med school or he learned on his own how to cut bodies surgically.” Ymir placed the pictures on her desk and crossed her arms, a frown still settled in place instead of her grin. Armin pinched the bridge of his nose; this whole investigation was getting out of hand.

“So, he’s gotten bolder,” Commissioner Rico said as she pinched the flesh of her chin. “After twelve murders and no suspect named, he got confident. With a police department as unkempt as this one, he probably figured he could murder even more without having to worry about being caught. The presentations are flashier, more technical, and riskier than those in Sina, meaning our guy is probably overconfident in his ability to stay anonymous. He’s probably right under our nose.” Rico let go of her chin and fixed Ymir a hard look. “This is an excellent lead, Sergeant. Good work.” 

“Yeah, great work, but we still don’t have an idea of _who_ our suspect could be,” Annie said. “We’re still scratching our heads to even get an idea about this guy, if it’s even a guy doin’ all this.”

            “Actually,” Armin said, pausing as all eyes locked on him. “That’s not true anymore. I got Isabel’s story today. We’re looking for a tall man with dark gray eyes. She said they were, uh,” he crammed his hand into his pocket, digging out his notebook, and flipped to the last page he with writing. “She said they had no emotion but weren’t emotionless. She also said he let her go after cutting off her legs and one forearm because she was too young. And if she lived because of some moral code, that means we know his targeted age range.”

            “Did she give hair color or any other identifying features?” Jean said.

            Armin shook his head. “He was wearing a surgical mask over his face and a surgical cap over his hair. Besides, if we’re dealing with an experienced serial killer, I doubt he’d be stupid enough to let any part of his face show if he didn’t want it to when with a victim.”

            “Then that’s nothing to go on.” Jean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you press her more for any details? We can’t just arrest every man in Shiganshina who’s tall and has gray eyes. Not to mention colored contacts are a thing.” Armin rolled his eyes; of course, Jean would find something to object.

            “Look, I realize it’s not much to go on, but it’s more than what we had before.”

            “It’s a fine lead, Armin,” Commissioner Rico said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Armin flinched at the touch. Why was she approving him? And in front of everyone else? He swallowed around the growing lump in his throat.  “Gray eyes aren’t as common as you’d like to think, Jean. I’ll have Records pull up anyone with gray eyes and over 5’8.” Rico glanced at her watch. “Alright everyone, take a late lunch break. I know I’ve been pushing hard, but the progress we’ve made is great. Be back in ninety minutes. Dismissed.” A break? Armin breathed out the tension in his body; this was the perfect time.

            “Commissioner?” The word was out before he could finish forming his thoughts. “Can I take a patrol car to grab some food?”

            “I don’t see why not; you really proved yourself today, Detective. Just be sure to fill out the form and return on time.” Armin nodded, biting on the meat of his lip to try and stop the smile creeping on his face. This was perfect! It was almost too easy, and no one would know. “Armin,” the Commissioner said. “As smart as you are, it’s surprising how stupid you can be. I don’t have the time to snoop around your things, nor do I care enough to do so anymore, but whatever shit you’ve gotten yourself into, I’d suggest cutting ties with it. You’re a good detective; I’d really hate to see you go.” Without another word, she let go of his shoulder and walked towards her office. Fantastic, Rico knew he was hiding something. Armin swallowed as he swiped the keys off his desk for car #9. That was dangerous but not the end of the world. Rico wouldn’t dig unless she had a reason to, and she just said she was too busy to really care. So he was good. Right? Yeah, he’d be fine. Although, lying about the whereabouts of a police car probably wasn’t the best things to do right after being told to straighten up. Cold air stabbed his chest and face again as Armin shoved the door open and walked outside. He could worry about the Commissioner later. For now, he had to find Eren.

            Armin started the car and turned on his navigation. The bookstore was roughly ten miles from the station. He pulled out of the lot and made way for the southernmost part of town. He hadn’t been to this area yet. Actually, aside from the station and his motel, he hadn’t really explored much of Shiganshina. Although, that might be a good thing. Despite all the crap Ymir and Jean said about this place, they weren’t always wrong. Shiganshina was a dangerous dump.

After the twelfth pothole, Armin started to regret the route he chose. Although, the road might’ve been in a better condition than the neighborhoods he was driving through. “I’m fine, no one’s going to try to damage the car.” He let out a deep breath and relaxed the fingers clenched around the wheel. Boarded up homes and cracked sidewalks overrun with tall weeds lined the broken road along with mismatched cars and crushed Styrofoam cups. Armin turned right and checked his phone: only three more minutes.

Shiganshina was an awful place to live, but the fact there could be worst places to live within it... Armin sighed. The houses quickly denigrated into small shacks, big enough to house maybe one person or a couple. A lucky few yards had grass. Most were wild weeds and plastic bags. Huge chunks of paint chipped off the sides, any bit of metal rusted to hell. It wasn’t too surprising. The city government of Trost tried building low-income housing for the citizens living in Shiganshina but couldn’t rouse enough public support to continue working on renovations and improvements while keeping the prices low. They weren’t exactly cozy places to live, not very durable either.

            “You have arrived at your destination, The Pressman’s Grotto—” Armin pressed the end navigation button as he turned into a parking lot. Alright. He just had to find Dr. Hanji. He was a professor at Sina; he would definitely remember the Slasher sprees. Then, he could ask him about Eren. But…wait… Armin’s heart leaped to his throat while his stomach plummeted. Historia never told him when Eren took the position as an intern. He could’ve been a freshman! God, it could’ve been years. His trail ran dry at USina. Police rarely found all the victims of a killer in a cold case… What if Eren… What if he never…

            “Hey! Armin, open the door.” Armin jumped as knocks and shouts filled his ears. He turned his head to face the intruder, a hand already inching for his taser, only to see a familiar face.

            “Commander Smith?” Armin fumbled unlatch his seatbelt before reaching over and tugging up the locking lever for the passenger seat. The former Commander clambered in the car, shivering and cursing under his breath until he shut the door. This Erwin couldn’t be the same Erwin from two weeks ago. This man was a mess. He reeked of cigarette smoke and his shirt was untucked and most likely unwashed if the coffee spots and wrinkles anything to go by. His hair was unkempt and was limp against his face, which gleamed with sweat. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

            “I’ve been following a lead,” Erwin said. “I’m pretty sure I know who B.K.S. is. He works in that shop,” he lifted a shaking finger towards the bookstore. “He’s an Ackerman, so who else could it be?”

            “Sir?”

            Erwin looked at Armin with raised eyebrows. “Don’t you know about Captain Ackerman?”

            “Not really. Wasn’t he a captain?”

            Erwin sighed. “I’m not surprised they wouldn’t teach this. Everyone else thinks I’ve just held on to the story for too long for my old man’s sake.” The former Commander looked at the bookstore again. “Back when I was still in training, the Commander of the S.P.D. was Captain Ackerman. He used to be my father’s partner when they were detectives. My father caught Ackerman using his title to sleep with prostitutes and investigated a bit. Apparently, it had been going on long before he was Captain, so they fired him.

“My father replaced him, I became a rookie, and Ackerman left town. I heard he moved to the Sina slums but came back after some health complications with his wife’s pregnancy. Things went pretty south for him and his family financially and an anonymous tip told us he became a drunk and abuser. One day we get a call to his address and his house is burnt to the ground. Everyone died in the fire except his son. He’s a bit fucked up because of trauma, but he’s just as callous, rude, and dirty as his father. He’s gotta be B.K.S. The motive is obvious: humiliate the branch enough to have it eliminated altogether. I just have to get some evidence to arrest him, then I can arrest him and Chief Dawk will reinstate me and the branch.” A glint shone in Erwin’s eyes as he spoke. Armin furrowed his brow. Maybe he shouldn’t have opened the door. This whole theory was nuts.

“But I’m not a cop anymore,” Erwin said. “So I can’t ask as many questions without being reported for harassment. But you on the other hand…” Like hell, he was going to anything related to this crackpot theory. “I knew you were smart enough to come here and see for yourself, to see I’m right.”

“Uh, Erwin, I think your theory needs some work.”

“Just talk to him for me, okay? Get some information. He has black hair and works as the cashier.”

“Erwin—"

Erwin opened the door and stepped out, letting in a gust of cool November air. “I’m counting on you, Armin. Once I hand him over to Chief Dawk, I’ll tell him you helped me catch him, and we’ll both be promoted.” A grin found its way onto Erwin’s face. Between the dancing glint in his eyes, the grin, and his trembling hands, Erwin looked like a maniac. “I’ll be in touch,” he said as he walked away, hands fumbling to take a cig out of his pack. Armin sighed and got out of the car. He had to ask for Hanji and find out about Eren before he entertained a wild goose chase.

Armin walked to store sign only to be met with a ramp leading down. Huh, he didn’t think it was really underground, despite the name. He’d never been inside an underground bookstore before; this would be interesting. He followed the ramp down and pulled the store door open. A bell chimed as he walked in and was immediately surrounded by stacks of books and their accompanying musk of vanilla, dust, and traces of vinegar. Armin wove his way through the maze of bookcases but not before touching a few. The spines were so soft and worn, the pages just as soft to the touch. A few newer books were interspersed between the old ones, their spines still firm.

This store was amazing. For all the misery outside and surrounding it, this little fantastical pocket was surreal. Dr. Hanji had to be a good man on some level to start his business here of all places. As his eyes racked over the shelves, he stopped on a bookcase. “Holy shit…” A whole bookcase of leather-bound books loomed in front of him, all of them with the leather and parchment handmade in the shop, according to the sign above the shelf. But parchment making was hard; the sign was probably just an exaggeration. Still… He ran his hand down the spine of a thicker book. Soft ridges from the bindings under the surface interrupted his smooth glide down to the base, but that was fine. The leather was tough, tougher than he’d felt before. But he’d never touched real leather on a book before; maybe this was just the way leather books felt. He grasped the spine and tugged it gently. If the parchment was really handmade, he wanted to feel it.

“Don’t touch the leather unless you’re gonna buy the book.” Armin jumped and released the book before whipping his head around. A pale, short man with black hair and some of the deepest bags he’d ever seen stood with crossed arms over a tan apron. A book cart trailed him with a few books on it; he was probably about to reshelf here. Armin furrowed his brow; there was something… _weird_ with this guy. Maybe it was the anger in his eyes or the purplish bags under them making him seem exhausted, or the general look of apathy on his face. He seemed like the type of man who genuinely hated his job and his life. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but pity him. “Well? Are you gonna buy it or not?”

“Oh, right,” Armin said with a laugh and pushed the book back in the shelve. “Sorry.”

“The leather-bounds are all copies of books we have in paperback. I can get one for you if you just want to read the blurb.” The man’s face didn’t change at all as he spoke.

“No, I’m not really interested in that.”

“Well, is there anything you are interested in?”

Armin shifted the weight from his left leg to his right and hugged his elbows. “Nothing in particular.”

“Do you even need my help?” The man started to turn to his book cart and reached for a title.

“Uh, yes. I’m actually looking for Dr. Hanji.”

“He’s doing a phone interview and won’t be free for at least another hour.” Armin’s shoulders sagged. Really? He couldn’t stay another hour without getting back on Rico’s bad side again.

“Well, can I ask you about something else? I’m looking for someone who might work here.” The man rested his hand on the book in his grasp.  

“Who?” His voice was quieter than before.

Shit. He couldn’t just blurt out Eren’s name to some guy he didn’t know. Although, that’s exactly what he’d be doing by telling Dr. Hanji. Ugh, whatever. Asking about Eren just wasn’t going to work today; he was going to have to change topics. “Uh, the cashier on duty tonight? The name’s escaping me,” he said instead. The man rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Are you with Erwin?”

“No!” Fuck, this was unraveling all too fast.

“Then how’d you even know his name, idiot?” The man pushed past Armin and propped himself against the bookshelf to peer over it. “A fucking patrol car? What the hell is this?” Dammit!

“How did you—?”

“I can see it through the fucking windows.” The man dropped back to the floor and cast Armin a furious glare. “You’re a pretty shit cop, coming here with your car. I’m not the fucking serial killer, and you can’t just harass me for no fucking reason.”

“Look, it’s not about you or the cashier—”

“I _am_ the cashier, you fucking idiot.” Armin’s eyes widened. It all made sense now!

“You’re Captain Ackerman’s son?” Armin was always fine with never pursuing how to become a true detective. He had his reasons, most pressing of them all were the fact that he only ever managed to escalate situations before getting his desired outcomes. Now was one of those moments. The cashier flinched before nearly tripping over his own feet to get away from Armin. He knocked over the book cart in his haste to back away, not even paying to mind his leg banging against the metal. The anger in his eyes vanished as they widened, pure terror taking its place.

“No, stop it! Stop it! I won’t do it again, I promise,” he said, eyes tearing up. “Please don’t leave me in the dark again, don’t leave me in there!” The man tripped again, this time falling to the ground with a thud. His fall didn’t deter him to escape whoever he saw. Instead, he shielded his face with his arms.

“Levi?” Armin whirled his head around at the new voice, falling on a man in a white coat hurrying over. His hair was tied up in a ponytail but most still fell over his face. He must be Dr. Hanji. “Shit. Levi, I need to calm down and breathe, okay? You’re not there anymore, this is just a flashback.”

Flashbacks? Shit, was I because he mentioned his father? Dammit, Erwin _said_ he was messed up by the trauma! He should’ve been more careful. “Is he going to be okay?” Armin said.

“In a few hours, he’ll be better,” Dr. Hanji said. “I’m sure being a victim has it’s worse days and you guys always manage to come on Levi’s.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Levi? Just listen to me, you’re at the shop. You’re working here, you’re a cashier now. _He’s_ not here anymore, he died. You’re safe here,” Dr. Hanji said, clutching a hand covering the man—, no, _Levi’s_ space.

 “Look, officer, it doesn’t matter what you meant to do. Levi’s still reliving his past horrors.” Dr. Hanji didn’t take his eyes off Levi as he spoke. “I’m afraid you’ll have to come around another time. We’re no longer open today.” Good god, first Isabel and now this poor man, Levi. Who was next? Armin sighed and made his way out of the store, the brilliance of the books dulled as he left the store.  

            Erwin was wrong. Levi wasn’t the killer. He looked unsettling but with triggers like what he just witnessed, Armin doubted Levi could seriously and meticulously harm this many people. Armin groaned as he felt his phone ring again. What now? It hadn’t even been an hour yet. He pulled it out and rolled his eyes before picking up.

            “Detective Arlet speak—.”

            “Where are you?” Jean. Who else would pester him during the break? “I’ve been waiting to snack off your lunch.”

            “I just ordered my food; the drive-through was ridiculous. I’ll be there in five.” Armin snapped his phone shut without waiting for an answer, again, as he climbed into the patrol car. Pushing aside all thoughts of Levi or Isabel from his mind, Armin started the car, driving back to the station without a glance behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween and Happy Anniversary to this fic!

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated~ let me know if I'm doing a good, meh, or ehh job!


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